


Game of Love

by MossadHuntinDog



Series: Childhood Sweethearts [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Marriage, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fake Marriage, Past Relationship(s), Rekindled Relationship, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Underage Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:36:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 80,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossadHuntinDog/pseuds/MossadHuntinDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Til death do us part..." </p><p>Little did they know that such simple words, said as children during play, would ultimately seal their fate, not only then, but years later. Using a couple of their parents' rings, Tim and Ziva, childhood friends growing up in Israel, hold a pretend wedding ceremony in an abandoned synagogue, unaware of the repercussions their little game has for their lives. Thinking nothing of the words or actions, they later part ways as teenagers, only to reunite years later as adults at NCIS. Unknown to them, someone was watching that long ago day, listening, and took their 'fake wedding' very seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Be'er Sheva,_

_Israel,_

_1985_

The sun beat down hard on the desert sands of igniting waves of heat to rise from the roads and dazzling fires of light to blind the sun from view. In the center of the Israeli city, cars moved down the streets, men and women walked the streets, headed to work or out for the day. It was June; school was out, and the children had the run of the city- to an extent. 

Shouts followed the two children as they raced down the street, out of the city, towards the olive grove not far from town. "Come and get me!" 

"Wait up! That is not fair!" The two children rushed managed to duck and dodge cars and people alike, laughter trailing behind. Eventually, they made it to the old building, sitting abandoned on the outskirts of the city. Once the center of Be'er Sheva, the old synagogue had since been abandoned after the Yom Kippur War. This old, abandoned part of the city was a child's paradise- one endless game of hide-and-seek among the ruins of the older part of town. 

 Eventually, they reached the old, burned out ruins of the synagogue, and after checking that they were alone, dashed inside.

It was simply the skeleton that remained of the old house of worship- the synagogue had burned down back during the war, and what remained- what had been saved- was simply the outer shell, a few columns inside that had once supported the ceiling, and the Tebah and the burnt Torah Ark. The platform of the Tebah was what the children liked best- they could lay on the platform and watch the clouds from "inside" a building- their very own planetarium.

Eventually, the child stopped, sitting on the steps that led to the platform, facing each other. Both were out of breath, but smiling, excited for this new game. They had done everything under the sun since school had gotten out a week ago, from swimming at the beach to picking olives-

"Do you have it?" He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. She watched as he opened the white scarf, revealing a simple gold ring with a tiny pearl in the center. She gazed. "It's so pretty!" He grinned, happy he'd managed to get out of the apartment without his mother noticing.

"Did you bring yours?" She quickly pulled something out of the pocket of her capris- one of her father's ties and a ring similar to his- a gold band with a small pearl set center. He met her gaze, biting his lip.

"Now what do we do?" He thought a moment, before taking the scarf and draping it over her head.

"There. Your veil." She then took the tie, wrapping it around his neck and tying it in a bow.

"And your tie." She replied, laughing. But they soon fell into silence. "Now what?" 

They'd been playing this game for the last couple days- imitating her older brother and their parents, watching the adults and doing what they did. Flirting, dating, pretending to get engaged... all in an elaborate game of 'house.' The two children- on a few months apart in age- stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say. A moment passed, before he finally said,

"Well, how do people get married in Israel?" The girl thought a moment, trying to remember her Aunt Nettie's wedding, a couple month prior.

"There was a big canopy... and... they faced each other-" She stopped, watching as the boy grabbed the sheet that had been placed over the floor behind them, to protect against broken glass. The stairs they sat on soon became their small cave, hiding them from any lurking behind them.

"Now what?"

She watched him sit back down, thinking, before noticing the backpack he'd brought; their books and a few toys were inside, as well as a couple pastries they'd bought from the baker before fleeing. "What do people in America do when they get married?"

He shrugged; the last wedding he'd been too had been his cousin's- he'd been the ring-bearer, while his little sister had been a flower girl; but here, they had neither bearers nor flower girls, nor any of the other things that had been at his cousin's wedding. "A priest recited a bunch of stuff that they had to say back to him, and then... they exchanged rings."

"What did they have to say?" The boy pursed his lips, trying to remember.

"Um... that they... promised to... be faithful and... love each other forever and ever and... that they would help each other when they got sick... and be together even if they were poor... and... 'til death do they part."

"Okay." The girl nodded, resolute. "Do I have to say it to?"

"Well, my cousin Sophie said it to Bobby so... I guess."

Slowly, they took hands, as both had seen done before, and after a moment, she spoke. "I promise to... to be faithful and love you forever and ever and... help you when you get sick and... be together even if we are poor and... what was the last part?"

He grinned, blushing. "'Til death do us part."

"Right. And 'til death do us part." She then slid the ring she'd taken from her mother's jewelry box onto his fourth finger, as she'd seen her aunt do, before allowing him to repeat the phrase and put his ring on her finger. Once they were done, they locked eyes. "What now?"

"My cousins kissed." He wrinkled his nose. "Can we skip that part?"

"But if we do not kiss, then we are not married..." She replied; it made perfect sense to her young mind. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine." Then, without a word, he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She giggled, doing the same. As they sat together, sharing their pastries, they were unaware of the person slipping out of the ruins of the synagogue, having watched and heard the entire conversation; completely unaware that they'd been simply playing a game.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathleen McGee looked up to see her son dash into the apartment, Ziva  _Da_ vid behind him. "What have you two been up to, loves?" She asked, handing each a glass of juice.

"Timmy!" Sarah McGee, the youngest of the two siblings rushed to her brother, holding out the picture she'd colored. Ziva and Timmy shared a glance, before he said,

"Ziva and I got married!"

A plate shattered, and Kathleen quickly knelt to pick up the broken pieces, before putting them in the trash as opposed to the cupboard. "Wh... what do you mean-"

"Mama? We were playing house." He replied, worried thanks to the look in her eyes. "We can't play house if we don't get married first."

A moment passed before she relaxed. "Playing house?" The children nodded. "Okay. Good. Well... go... go play." She watched the two quickly dash off to Timmy's room, Sarah trailing behind, her coloring book and crayons held tightly in her small fists. Once they were in Timmy's room, the two six-year-olds clambered onto the bed, collapsing among the dark blue blankets and pillows. There were posters of stars and space ships on the walls, as was typical with little boys; books littered the floor and were stacked haphazardly on the bookshelves. A moment passed, before Timmy glanced at his friend.

Ziva  _Da_ vid was a natural-born Israeli Jew; the oldest daughter and second child of Eli  _Da_ vid, a high-ranking officer in the Israeli Mossad. Unlike Tim's father, the young American Ambassador to Israel, Eli was focused more on serving his country than his family. Not to say that Timmy's father was entirely focused on his family- John McGee loved his family, sure, but he was a highly important man...

But of everyone in the David household- besides Ziva- Tim liked Rivka most. Ziva's mother was good friends with his own mother- she was kind and loving and friendly, so unlike Eli. Timmy always thought Rivka and his own mother, Kathleen, were cut from the same cloth- both sweet, both loving, both gentle. So unlike the men they'd married. The boy sighed; he was never going to be like his father, or Ziva's. If he ever got married, he'd be nice and loving and gentle, and spend more time with his family than at work.

"Timmy, picture!" He sat up as Sarah rushed into the room, having followed them. The four-year-old held the picture of Cinderella in her purple dress and green hair out to her older brother, but he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want it, Sarah. I already have a picture of Cinderella you colored for me." The girl's face fell, and Timmy sighed. He loved his little sister, but there were days when she got on his nerves.

"What is it?" Ziva sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. The four-year-old held the picture out to her; she glanced at it and then at her. It was a drawing from a coloring book, of Cinderella dancing with Prince Charming, in a purple dress and green hair. "It is very pretty, Sarah." The younger girl beamed. "Can I keep it?" A moment passed, before Sarah nodded and skipped out of the bedroom, still holding tight to her coloring book and crayons.

The two older children shared a glance. She studied him; Timmy was her best friend. For some strange reason, she and the Ambassador's son had hit it off right away, that first day of school, when the teacher had introduced him to the class. He was three months older than her in age, not that Ziva cared. No, what she liked most about Timmy was the fact that he was different. He wasn't Jewish, or Palestinian, or fully American, even- his father was from America, but his mother had been born and raised in County Derry, Northern Ireland. In fact, Timmy himself had been born in Derry, as had Sarah, and it was partially because of the violence in the North that the family had moved to Israel- well, John's job had been the main reason, but still, when they weren't living in America, with John's mother, Penny, they were in Ireland, with Kathleen's family.

Timmy was sweet, and funny, and her polar opposite in personality, and yet, they got along perfectly. While other kids often picked on him because he was quiet, Ziva found that the quiet was just one aspect to his personality. Just as she wasn't always the troublemaker that teachers often made her out to be. After she folded the picture and put it in her pocket, she returned to laying among the pillows, staring at the ceiling- but then her gaze moved to the ring on her finger. It was pretty, and fit her hand just right. "Timmy?"

He joined her, staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah, Ziva?"

"You will be my best friend forever, right?"

He met her gaze, giggling. "The bestest."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter skips ahead...

Be'er Sheva,

Israel 1989

"I don't understand. What do _ye_ mean she _jus'_ disappeared? Where the _'ell_ did she go?"

He leaned against the door frame, listening as his mother spoke on the phone to her older sister, Siobhan. He swallowed, sinking to the floor; it was about the turmoil taking place in Ireland- the same turmoil that had been taking place when he was born, before he was born, before his _mother_ had been born...

But this was personal.

Though he didn't know the circumstances, he knew that the conversation had to do with his Aunt Eileen- Kathleen and Siobhan's younger sister. Just as the last phone call had had to do with his grandfather, two years prior. James Gallagher, his maternal grandfather, had been killed in the Remembrance Day bombing, back in eighty-seven, on November eighth, when the IRA had set off bombs near the centopah- the war memorial in the center of Enniskillen, the town his grandfather had been born in.

Though he was only ten, he'd seen and heard a lot of violence in his young life-

"Timmy?" Ziva looked up from the book she was reading, Kathleen's voice getting louder and higher. She climbed off the bed, going to him. "What is wrong?" He met her gaze, tears misting his eyes.

"We're gonna _'ave t'_ go back _t' Ir'land_."

"Why?" She sat beside him.

"Because..." But he never finished, thanks to the bedroom door opening all the way. The two ten-year-olds looked up to see Kathleen standing in the doorway; her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. Sighing, she knelt to their level.

 _"Ye 'eard_ , Timmy, love?" Her voice was soft, strained.

He nodded. " _'twas Aintin_ Siobhan, right, _Mams_?" Kathleen sighed, nodding once. Ziva watched the pair, hearing the lilt of the Irish in Timmy's voice. She'd never noticed it before- though the others in their class had, and made sure to make fun of him for it. Maybe she hadn't noticed it because she cared more about Timmy than an accent. But now that she heard it... it was cute.

 _"Aye."_ He met his mother's gaze, calmly, quietly. It took a moment, as Kathleen reached out, taking his hand, a shaky breath drawing into her lungs. "Aunt Eileen _'as_ disappeared. No one can find her. _Garda_ think _'twas_ the IRA _tha'_ took her."

" _Bu'_ why? Aunt Eileen did _nothin'_   wrong." Kathleen reached out, caressing his cheek.

"I know, love. Eileen _couldna hur'_ a fly."

"Will we have to go back?" He didn't notice the look Kathleen gave Ziva; sniffling, she shook her head, reaching over and taking the girl's hand.

"No. _No'_ until they find a body."

" _Bu'_... they _nev'r_ will. They _dinna_ find Uncle _Pet'r_ when _'e_ disappeared-" She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, stopping his words.

"I know, Timmy, love. _Bu'_ we _mus' r'member_ ; no body-"

"- means they could still be alive." He whispered, repeating the same mantra his mother often used when a loved one or friend went missing in the North. Kathleen nodded, giving them both small smiles.

" _Tha's righ'._ Now, are _ye 'ungry_? Ziva?" The girl nodded, and Kathleen got up, slipping back into the kitchen, glad for the distraction that making lunch would require for her family. Once she was gone, Timmy got up, climbing onto the bed and turning his back to the door. Ziva watched, unsure of what to do or say, but the soft sobs that reached her ears soon broke her heart, and she stood, climbing onto the bed to face him.

"Timmy-"

"Leave me _'lone_ , Ziva." He whispered, shifting to face away from her. She swallowed, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

"Timmy, I am sorry." When he didn't reply, she took a chance, scooting closer and laying her head against his back. He tried squirming away, but she wrapped her arms around him. "I am supposed to help if you get sick-"

"I _don't wann_ a play _tha'_ game, Ziva." He replied, pushing her hands away. She sighed.

"I am just trying to help." A moment passed, before he shifted back to face her. When she met his gaze, the emerald orbs she loved so were filled to the brims with tears; tears that quickly slid down his cheek with each blink. "What is Eileen like?" He sniffled, thinking.

" _Aintin_ is... _eigh'teen_. She... dances... does..." But he shook his head, bursting into tears. Without a word, Ziva wrapped her arms around him, as he buried his face in her shoulder. Clearly, Eileen meant more to the family than words could ever convey. Ziva sighed; she hated seeing Timmy so upset, and she knew that nothing she said would ever make him feel better, so she didn't even try to think of something to say. Instead, she just let him cry, tightening her hold on him.

An hour later, after finally wrangling Sarah into putting her toys away and washing her hands, which was a hassle in and of itself, Kathleen called the kids to lunch. Sarah, of course, came dashing into the room, but her brother and Ziva didn't. After making sure Sarah was seated, she set the dishtowel down and headed towards Timmy's room in the back of their small apartment. "Timmy? Ziva? Lunch is ready-"

She opened the bedroom door, determined to tell them both to put the books or board games away and come eat, when the sight before her stopped her in her tracks. Both children were curled up on the bed, arms around each other, sound asleep. She made her way to the bed; tear tracks could be seen on her son's cheeks and the shoulder of Ziva's t-shirt was wet. It was highly evident that the news about Eileen had hit her son hard.

After a moment, Kathleen grabbed the throw that usually went on the end of her son's bed and tucked it around the children, deciding that lunch could wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There's a reason this chapter skips ahead...

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_1995_

The halls of the high school were crowded, not that he minded. He'd managed to find a quiet corner where he could catch his breath. It wasn't that he minded being in Tel Aviv, but it was such a huge change from Be'er Shiva... and honestly, if he'd had his say, he'd be back in Ireland, going to school in the Bogside, where his cousins and his family were. But he especially wanted to be there now that peace talks were going on between Ireland and England-

He sighed, pulling his walk-man out of his bag and slipping in a CD. Thank God school was out; he didn't think he could take another hour of listening to teachers drone on about math, history, English. He'd become fairly fluent in Hebrew; and why wouldn't he, he'd been here since he was about... six or so.

_Ten years._  He shuddered. His family had spent the  _last ten years_  in Israel. He and Sarah were teenagers now; they had arguments with their parents, almost regularly, did their homework when they were supposed to and stayed out most nights without coming in until two in the morning, always with consequences. Like most teenagers, they rebelled, drinking, trying drugs, but never doing anything serious. He now had his license- which meant a nice slice of freedom-

"Hey Timmy." He looked up, removing the headphones from his ears, struggling to suppress an eye roll. Oh, yeah he'd forgotten about the one little hitch in getting his license.

Ziva.

Though they were both sixteen- well, Tim was. Ziva had another... two months to go, if he remembered correctly. So, since he was the oldest of the pair, it was his job to give her a ride to school. Sadly for him, as he saw it, they all went to the same high school- with the exception of Ari, Ziva's older brother, who by now was away at college in England. "Do you  _'ave_  to call me _tha'_ , Ziva? We aren't ten-years-old anymore."

"Sarah still calls you 'Timmy.'" She replied, shifting her bag on her shoulder. This time, he didn't suppress the eye roll.

" _Tha's_  because she's my sister. You're  _jus'_  my friend." Hurt flashed briefly in Ziva's dark gaze, but she pushed it aside, twisting the ring on her finger.

"But you said-"

"Are we ready to go?" The two turned as Talia and Sarah joined them; both two years younger than their older siblings, the girls had become best friends almost instantly. With Sarah's Snow White complexion and Talia's Jasmine-like beauty, the girls often got hit on and asked out at school- something both Tim and Ziva instantly stopped. And though Talia often stayed at home with Ziva, trying to keep peace- for the youngest often played peacekeeper in her family- the McGee siblings spent more time sneaking out of the house than staying in. Kathleen tried hard to keep a short leash on both her kids, but with the violence towards her family in Ireland, the stress of her husband's job and constant "abandon-ness" at home, and the siblings' longing to finally be free of Israel for lusher, greener, more Irish pastures...

Well, Kathleen was about to the point of putting bars on the windows and chaining both her kids to their beds to keep them under control. But since it was illegal to do such a thing, the  _Da_ vid sisters were Kathleen's next best thing. Sarah and Talia had so much in common, and Tim and Ziva were the best of friends... so no one could blame Kathleen for hoping Rivka's oldest daughter would keep her son occupied, in more ways than one.

Not that Tim looked at Ziva that way.

Lately, he found her as more of a nuisance than anything. She followed him around everywhere, talked constantly, and seemed to become exceedingly possessive whenever anyone else- especially another girl- came near him. In short, she was driving him up the wall.

"Yeah. You two ready?" The girls nodded. "Ziva? Ziva!" The older girl's head snapped up, her gaze shifting to the ring he was wearing on his fourth finger. A gold band with a small pearl- "You ready?"

" _Ken_."

Once they'd piled in the car, Ziva slipping conveniently into the front passenger when Sarah and Talia stopped to argue over something, Tim took the cd out of his walk-man and popped it into the player. The nineteen-eighty-four Camaro Z-twenty-eight had been a gift from his parents for his sixteenth, something Sarah was exceedingly jealous of. "So, where are we going, Timmy?" Sarah asked, once the doors had closed and he'd started the car.

"Where do you think, Sarah?" He replied, turning up the volume slightly; Sarah groaned from the backseat at the familiar drum beats. She kicked the back of Ziva's seat, sending the older girl jumping in surprise.

"Seriously, Timmy? U-Two? I hate them."

"What is a U-Two?" Ziva asked, glancing back and forth, between the McGee siblings.

"It's just some stupid-"

"It's an Irish rock band." Tim said, cutting off his sister. Sarah rolled her eyes, glancing at Talia.

"Irish do... rock?" Talia asked, turning to Sarah.

"Never mind. It's one of Timmy's little... weird things..."

" _'ey_ , it's not weird! They're like... one _o' th' bes'_  bands in Ireland." He replied.

"And we haven't been back  _t'_  Ireland since we were kids." She snapped. The David sisters shared a glance; Ziva sighed, settling back and listening to the McGee siblings argue. Though they'd been in Israel nearly ten years, Tim still retained his accent, and it made him stand out in the high school they attended. He'd learned to take the teasing about his accent in stride, and Ziva found that he even seemed to like being different. Of course, there were some things the McGee siblings did with the children of the others who also worked at the embassy- such as attend fancy functions and galas and anything major that would be seen on international TV.

"Well, I'd rather be back in Ir'land instead o' here." He muttered. Sarah groaned.

"Is this about that stupid embassy dinner we have to attend tonight?" She asked, picking at her cuticles. "You know I wish Daddy would let us bring dates, that way we wouldn't be shafted at the 'kids table' like we were last year. I'm fourteen, I shouldn't be sitting with a bunch of preteens."

"How do you think I feel, Sarah? I'm stuck playing babysitter to you all night.  _Hey_!" He hit the breaks, and threw the car into park, turning to face her. "You kick my seat again, Sarah, and you're _walkin' 'ome_!"

"Like  _Mams_  would be happy with you just abandoning me on the side of the street in Tel Aviv-"

"You've lived _'ere_  ten years, you can find _yer_  way  _'round._ " She glowered at him.

"What is wrong?" All three turned to Talia, who glanced between the McGee kids.

"What do you mean, Tali?" Ziva asked, confused. Tali pointed from Sarah to Tim and back.

"Well, we fight, Zivaleh, but not as much as them. Is there something wrong with them?" Ziva bit her lip.

"I think... this is just how Americans fight, Tali." She replied, glancing at Tim, but he didn't say a word.

"What the hell are you so pissed at, Timmy?" Sarah asked before Tali could ask another question. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you being such a bitch, Sarah? You start your period or something?" Ziva winced. In their household, such things as menstrual cycles weren't discussed openly, but privately, between a mother and daughter or sisters. But since the girls were now spending half their lives at their father's place and half at their mothers- with the very occasional when their parents would reconcile and move back in together- the girls usually went to Kathleen to talk, knowing she'd listen. But apparently, the McGee household was run very different from theirs.

Without another word, Tim turned around and started the car again-

"Actually, you know what, I think I'll walk home. That's for the lift, Timmy." And before he could do anything, Sarah had climbed out of the car, Tali following behind her. Clearly, the sisters had chosen sides, as Ziva had remained in the passenger seat.

"Aren't you going to get out too?" He asked, glancing at her. She reached over, taking his hand off the stick shift and squeezing gently.

"I like Sarah, but she is not my best friend." She struggled to ignore the butterflies erupting in her stomach. As they started off again, Ziva turned to him, adjusting the seat belt so it didn't choke her. "What is wrong, Tim? You have been... sullen and moody all day." He sighed, glancing at her. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak, as the light they pulled up to turned green, and he began to pull out-

But Ziva heard nothing except the sound of a truck horn screeching, the crunch of metal, shattering of glass, and then the ever pressing scream of silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Someone switched the sound on, only the volume was up way too high. The colors too bright and the faces too close for her to make out. The whole picture was grainy. And then suddenly, the sound returned to normal.

She struggled to sit up, finding herself on the sidewalk in downtown Tel Aviv; the last thing she remembered was the flicker of sadness in Tim's beautiful green eyes as he glanced at her as they moved through the intersection- and then nothing. "Easy... easy, it's okay. You're okay." Someone was trying to hold her down.

Slowly, she turned; her neck was sore, and she hissed, reaching up. "Careful. You've got a bad case of whiplash." The woman beside her wore a white coat over her blue uniform. Ziva recognized her instantly as one of the  _Hoveshes_ \- an emergency medical worker from the MDA, short for Magen David Adom, the emergency medics in Israel, similar to what they had in the United States.

"Where..." She quickly looked around, finding no sight of- "Where is Tim?"

"Who?" The woman asked, quickly shining a flashlight in her eyes to check her vision.

"Tim... he... driving..." The woman turned the light off once she was satisfied, and glanced over her shoulder. Ziva followed her gaze, unprepared for what she saw. Tim's car, twisted and mangled on one side, broken glass littering the street. Against the medical worker's firm hand, she climbed unsteadily to her feet, rushing towards it. The passenger side was undamaged- it was the driver's side that had taken the most heat. Her dark gaze quickly scanned the car.

_Where the hell is Tim?_

Her heart began to clench, the knots that accompanied it twisting her stomach into a poorly tied bow. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, feeling the cold metal of the ring she wore dig into the flesh of her palm. She wheeled on the worker, tears in her eyes. "Where is he? My..." She stopped. "My friend. He... he was driving..." The woman nodded, seeing what Ziva couldn't say, but considered him as-

"He is being taken to Sourasky." She replied, nodding towards the ambulance. "You may go with him." Without a word, Ziva dashed towards the ambulance, calling for them to wait for her. Once the doors had closed behind them and they were off, she reached out from her seat beside him and took his hand.

"Will he be okay?" She mentally kicked herself for the tears in her voice. The man attending gave her a soft smile.

"He has a concussion; he may be out for a while, but he should be fine. We will be able to do tests to see if he has organ damage, and if he does not, all it will require will be a brief stay and some painkillers before he can head home."

"And if there is organ damage?" She asked, fearing the worst.

"Then we will operate, but let us not worry until we get there and the doctor sees him." She nodded, turning back to Tim. There was an open cut on his cheek, and he was bruised, but to her untrained eye, seemed okay. She didn't let go of his hand until they reached the hospital, and even then, it took several nurses to get her to let go of his hand and allow the doctors to take him into emergency.

And so, she sat, hands between her knees to keep the shaking to a minimum, lips pressed tight to keep the sobs at bay, eyes stinging with the burn of tears that begged to fall. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but soon, her parents, Tim's parents, Sarah and Tali showed up.  _"What happened? Ziva, wha' 'appened t' my son?"_

She soon found Kathleen shaking her, and the tears began to fall. "I do not know! I... we were driving into an intersection... the light had turned green... and then..." She swallowed thickly. "Tali and Sarah got out of the car before..."

"What?" It was then that Kathleen turned to her daughter as Rivka enveloped her oldest in a hug. "Sarah? Talk t' me."

The fourteen-year-old swallowed, glancing at Tali, who hung her head. "We were... arguing, Mams. T... Timmy and I... he... he told me I could walk home if I didn't want a ride..." So it wasn't _exactly_  the truth, but Sarah wasn't willing to tell her mother all of it. "So... so Tali and I... we got out and walked... and then we... we heard the crash..."

"Mrs. McGee?" Everyone looked up as a doctor came out to them, carrying a chart.

"How is he?" Ziva barely listened as the doctor explained in medical-speak the injuries and how long it would take for him to recover. Instead, she found herself twisted the ring on her finger, desperate to see Tim and apologize for whatever she'd said or done to make him mad at her. Her head snapped up.

"What?" The others all turned to look at her.

"I said that he needs to stay overnight, but that he can go home in the morning. He's very lucky he was wearing his seat belt- you both are. Even though the truck hit the driver's side, if there had been a car coming the other way, you could have found yourself sandwiched between them." Relief flooded her as soon as the words hit her brain, and she watched as the doctor handed Kathleen Tim's backpack and jacket, before excusing himself. Quickly, his mother set the things down before rushing to follow the nurse who'd come to take her to see Tim. After checking on Ziva, Rivka took the younger girls to the cafeteria to get coffee and pull the full story out of them; she opted to stay behind.

With a sigh, she glanced at Tim's things before picking up the jacket and bringing it to her nose. She took a deep breath; his scent instantly enveloped her- books, sunshine, and that smell that was distinctly him-

_Guys have that... have such a wonderful smell about them._

Unable to help herself, she pulled the jacket on, feeling as though he were wrapping her in a hug. It was big on her, way too big- which was understandable, because Tim was taller than her; tall and thin, thanks to the early morning runs he went on, that she often joined- and yet, it didn't bother her. As she stuffed her hands into the pockets and then brought them out to adjust it on her shoulders, something fell to the floor.

Quickly, Ziva knelt down, snatching it up. A folded piece of paper, that, once opened, revealed a letter of some kind.

Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Admissions Office

Right below the date, was a sentence that made her heart stop.

_Dear Timothy,_

_On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure, to offer you admission to the MIT class of nineteen-ninety-eight..._

Tears began to well in her eyes, as the reason Tim had been acting strange suddenly made sense.


	6. Chapter 6

Ziva kept her mouth shut about the letter for a month.

And once the month was gone, the McGee household had blown up.

All because the idiot woman at the Admissions Office called the house, wanting to know if Tim had sent his transcripts over, and Kathleen had answered. Tim and Ziva had been sitting at the kitchen table studying, at the time. After hanging up, Kathleen had called John and told him, asking him to come home, that there was a matter they needed to discuss with their son and that it was urgent.

And once she'd hung up the phone, for the second time that day, she'd wheeled on Tim. And demanded to know what was going on, and yelled at him, and he'd yelled back-

And then John, receiving Kathleen's message, had gotten home.

And the mother of all parent-teenager blowups began.

Yelling, screaming, crying, glass breaking and plates shattering, doors being slammed and threats to call the cops had been made. Everything and anything, including physical-

_"So yes, I applied t' MIT behind yer backs, bu' I only did it t' get away from you!"_

Ziva sat at the kitchen table, staring at her math homework, keeping silent. She winced, her hands between her knees to keep from jumping between them and getting involved in a fight that wasn't hers to be involved in. She and her parents had fought before- it wasn't uncommon for teenagers to fight with their parents- but nothing over something as silly as this. And in all honesty, she'd been hoping that she and Tim could go to Tel Aviv University together, but now-

The knots in her stomach returned, and she whimpered softly. It seemed, that before the car accident, Tim had been pulling further and further away from her, but now, with this news that he could go to the States- or back to the States as it were, since his father was American- and go to an American college- one of the most prestigious technical schools in the country, even, and at sixteen- well, it seemed that he was trying to wipe her from his person completely.

He'd even started dating Deena, Ziva's best and _only_  girlfriend. She and Tim had known the Bashans since they were children; when the _Da_ vids moved to Tel Aviv, they'd lived right across the hall from the Bashans, so Ziva had spent a lot of time with Deena, when she wasn't with Tim. Deena was older than Ziva by a month, something that irked the oldest _Da_ vid daughter to no end, but to now have her _dating_  Ziva's best friend-

Although, in some sick, twisted way, it made sense. They were both older than her, even if it was only by a few months; they both liked the same things and even though they had small arguments now and then, like every couple did, they almost always made up after. So Ziva really shouldn't have minded that her two best friends were dating.

Until Deena had spilled the beans about their date over the weekend to her during the lunch period that afternoon at school.

Okay, so maybe Ziva shouldn't have been upset to find out that her two best friends had slept together over the weekend. Maybe she shouldn't have let her temper flare when Deena told her about how Tim had taken her out of Tel Aviv to the Be'er Shiva, and that they'd spent the weekend in the small city.  _Maybe_  she shouldn't have felt betrayed that Tim had taken Deena to the burned-out, abandoned synagogue she and Tim used to play in as children. And  _maybe_  she shouldn't have thrown a  _punch_  when Deena told her of how they'd slept together in the back of the eighty-eight Ford Mustang Tim had bought with the money he'd saved up from the job he'd taken the summer before, breaking the girl's nose and knocking her to the floor of the cafeteria in the process.

Maybe Ziva should have just let things go. Because if her friendship with Deena wasn't destroyed by Ziva's own jealousy, it was certainly destroyed now.

Which put Tim in the middle.

And Ziva had seen enough American TV shows to know, that when it came to picking sides, he always- _always_ \- picked his girlfriend over his best friend.

Maybe that was why she'd punched Deena. To further sever the ties between her and Tim, so he wouldn't have to choose.

But the thought quickly fled her mind.  _Yeah, like that is the reason you broke Deena's nose in three places._

_"I'm no' doin' it anymore! I'm no' gonna play your mind games, Da! I'm not goin' int' th' Navy! I get seasick, you know tha'! I'm goin' t' MIT an' I'm gonna get away from all of you! For good!"_

Ziva looked up as Tim slammed the front door, and after a moment, got up and scrambled after him. "Tim?" He stopped on the stairs, turning back to her.

"What do _you_  want?" For a moment, she seemed to shrink back, before making her way down to him.

"Do you need to talk?" She bit her lip when he didn't reply. "Do you... want to talk?"

He just shook his head, turning and continuing down the stairs. "I'm goin' to Deena's."

"She is not home." He stopped again, turning back to her. "She is... at the hospital. Getting... getting her nose... fixed."

"What is she doing at the- why is she getting her nose-  _what did you do?_ " Ziva soon found him running back up the stairs, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, hard.  _"What did you do, Ziva? What the hell did you do to Deena?_ "

"Nothing I would not have done to  _any other girl you slept with!_ " She cried, tears soon flooding her eyes.

"What?"

"You slept with her." She took a deep breath. "Deena was my best girlfriend. My only girlfriend. And you  _slept_  with her-"

_"I'm dating her!"_  He replied, saying it slowly so it penetrated her mind. " _Of course we're goin' t' sleep t'gether, we're datin', Ziva! God! Don't you know anything about relationships?_ "

She swallowed thickly, seeing her chance as he pulled away. "Tim." He turned back to her.

" _What?"_  His emerald eyes were cold, hurt. Just as she'd been upon hearing about what he'd done with Deena. "What is it, Ziva? Haven't you caused enough trouble in my life already?"

Without a word, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their mouths connected, and she drank him in. A moment passed, before he rested his fingers against her waist, responding to her kiss as vigorously as she was. Finally, after only a couple of minutes, she pulled away, meeting his gaze.

_"I love you."_

The breathy confession was soon all that remained of her as Ziva rushed back upstairs towards his apartment and slipped inside to gather her things and give him time to leave so she wouldn't have to face him in the hall again and die of embarrassment when she headed home, slamming the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

"We need to talk."

They hadn't spoken since Ziva's confession; that had been six weeks ago.

He looked up from his copy of  _The Beautiful and the Damned_ , not at all surprised to see her standing there. He'd been expecting her to crack for days. Keeping Ziva from something she was passionate about was like trying to keep a fish from water; eventually, it would end up killing her- if she didn't kill it first.

"You _ruined_  my relationship with Deena; don't you think you've caused enough trouble,  _Da_ vid?" He asked, returning to his book. Ziva couldn't help the silent twinge of glee that filled her at those words, accompanied by a twist of guilt, which was quickly squashed by the glee. He and Deena had broken up six weeks ago, not long after the kiss on the stairs, and Tim hadn't said a word to Ziva since.

She slammed her hands on the table, making the cup and saucer, as well as patrons nearby jump. " _Will you just listen to me?_  Please?" She whispered the last part, biting her lip. He sighed, shutting his book and setting it on the table.

"Fine. Talk."

"Not here." She replied, shaking her head. He raised an eyebrow. "Please, Tim. I... I am not above begging."

A moment passed, before he grabbed his book and stood, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. He followed her out to his car, allowing her to scramble into the passenger side before starting it. "Okay, Ziva talk."

"Not here, Tim."

"Then where?"

She swallowed. "The synagogue.  _Our_  synagogue." He rolled his eyes, but started the engine and pulled out anyway, leaving the small, hole-in-the-wall cafe in western Tel Aviv and heading for Be'er Sheva. Eventually, they pulled up behind the the ruins of the house of worship and Tim cut the engine, turning to her.

"All right, talk." She glanced at him, before getting out of the car and making her way to the ruins. "Ziva-" After a moment, he followed her.

"Do you remember when we would come here and play as children?" She turned back, going to the car and climbing onto the hood.

"What is so important we had to come all the way out here?" He asked, turning to her. She crossed her legs, the light material of her tan cargos protecting her legs from the heat of the of the car's hood. Out here, in the desert of Israel, with the heat rising from the desert floor, and the sun beating down on them with its own pulse, he couldn't help but think that she looked as though she'd risen from the sand herself. When she didn't say anything, he shook his head, turning back to look around the area they used to call theirs when they were little.

"I meant it, that day."

"Meant what?" He asked, turning back. She watched as he removed the jacket he often wore; it was cooler in Tel Aviv- since it was near the ocean- than Be'er Sheva, which was in the center of the country, so jackets and jeans weren't required often. She reached for it, taking it from him and folding it reverently in her lap.

"That I-" She stopped, unable to say the last two words, for fear they'd lodge in her throat. He sighed.

"Ziva," Slowly, he went to her, leaning on the hood of the car until they were face-to-face. "I love you too." Her face lit up.

"You do?" He nodded.

"Of course. You're my  _bes'_  friend. Why wouldn't I?"

She shook her head, upset that he wasn't understanding. "No, Tim I- I did not mean it like that... well, I did... I just..." She took a deep breath. "I want... I wanted you to..."

"To what, Ziva?" She met his gaze, swallowing thickly.

"To be _my_  first, Tim. Not  _Deena's_."

He closed his eyes, and with a shake of his head, spoke. "Ziva, I..." He sighed, his green eyes opening. She waited, holding her breath. "I am no going to sleep with you. You are  _not_  going to be my rebound." She sniffled, lowering her head, unable to stop the tears that pricked at her eyes. "God, Ziva-"

"How is that fair? You are my best friend, it should have been me! Not..." She stopped, meeting his gaze. A moment passed, before he joined her on the hood of the car and pulled her into a hug.

"Ziva, you'll find someone who loves you as deeply as I love Deena-"

"No!" She pulled away. "You are broken up! You are not supposed to love her! You are supposed to-" Her lower lip began to quiver, and she turned away, sniffling.

"Ziva, I will always love Deena. She was my  _firs'_  major girlfriend. There will always be a place in my _'eart_  for her. _Jus'_  like there will always be a place in my  _'eart_  for you-"

"Hearts do not have places, Tim." She muttered, crossing her arms. He chuckled.

"It's an American expression, Ziva." He whispered. She tried to ignore him, pulling into herself and rounding her shoulders. At that moment, she didn't care that she was pouting like a child- "It must means that... no matter where I go or what happens, you'll always be with me."

She turned back to him. "But I want to be with you... the way Deena is..."

He shook his head. Clearly, she wasn't understanding a word he was saying. She was his best friend; they had so much history together, so many shared memories, there was no way he'd ever be able to forget her, even if he wanted to. "Ziva-" But before he could finish, her mouth was on his.


	8. Chapter 8

_This is wrong. You're kissing Ziva... she's your best friend..._

He pulled away, meeting her gaze, those three little words she'd whispered to him that day coming back to him.

_She loves you... how the fuck could she possibly love you? You're like a brother to her..._

After a moment, she leaned close, kissing him once more before climbing off the hood and taking his hand. She tugged until he joined her, and then proceeded to lead him away from the mustang, determined to find somewhere else to-

He stopped and she turned back to him. He shook his head, pulling away from her, but Ziva tightened her grip, meeting his gaze and tugging to get her to follow. The last thing she wanted was to share her first time with Deena- so the mustang would have to wait for them back behind the ruins of the synagogue. They wandered through the abandoned part of Be'er Sheva. Eventually, Ziva stopped, tugging him closer. "Tim, look." She pointed, and he shook his head, knowing what she wanted, and determined not to give it to her.

"No."

She turned to him."Oh come on, no one is using it!" She rushed towards the vehicle, tugging him behind her. "I think someone abandoned it-"

"A _weapons' carrier_? Ziva, are you _insane_?" But even as he spoke, he watched her climb into the back before she reached out and took his hand, tugging him inside. "God knows what's in this, there could be-"

"Would you just _shut up_  and get in here, Timmy?" She demanded, pulling him close. It wasn't so much a truck as a tank- an  _IDF Achzarit_  to be exact- rusting and abandoned at the end of the Yom Kippur War, the weapons stored in it taken when the war ended, leaving space enough to spend the night. Ziva tossed Tim's jacket onto the floor for meager cushioning before pushing him onto his back and climbing into his lap, her mouth finding his.

"Ziva, wait-"

"What?" She met his gaze, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"I can't do this. You... you're my _bes'_  friend. The  _las'_  thing I want  _t'_  do is destroy our friendship-"

"We will not ruin it, Tim. Our friendship will be  _stronger_ -"

" _Ziva-_ "

"Because we will be together-" He sat up, gently moving her from his lap. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his shoes. She nodded, pulling her legs under her as she suddenly realized something. "You do not really want to be with me, do you?"

"It's not that-"

"Then you want to be with Deen again... because she is like you. No longer a virgin." Though she tried, she was unable to keep the bitterness and hurt out of her voice.

"It's  _no'_  a  _ques'ion_  of virginity, Ziva." He replied, voice soft.

"Then what is it, Tim? You have protection, I know you do, you are cautious with everything..." She stopped, meeting his gaze. "She... did not give you any diseases, did she? Because if she did, I will kill her-"

"Ziva! It's not that, it's  _jus'_..." He sighed, twisting the ring he wore. " _'tis_  a big step, _sleepin' t'gether_. I don't want _ye t'_  regret it-"

"How can I regret it, when it will be with you? Tim, _please_. I want to." She moved closer, climbing into his lap, sliding her arms around his neck. "I am ready, I swear I am. I... I want you to be my first... please, Tim... I want to be with you." She met his gaze, brushing her fingers over his cheeks. "I love you."

After everything they'd gone through- after how he'd withheld the acceptance letter from MIT from her, after he'd gotten involved in a relationship with Deena without considering her feelings... after all of it, she was still his best friend, still willing to be around him, no matter how annoyed she made him. She was still his best friend...

He sighed, and after a moment, pressed a soft kiss to her lips, finally mouthing the words to her. A smile came to Ziva's face; she was positively giddy.

Clothing soon began coming off; slowly, casually, as they took their time, allowing the feelings they'd been harboring for one another for years slowly come to the surface. As Ziva allowed Tim to tug her shirt over her head, she felt her heart begin to speed up as he returned his hands to her waist; their mouths met, deep, hot kisses penetrating every fiber of her being. He tugged the tie from her hair, moving to tangle his fingers in the silky strands he'd loved since they were children.

Slowly, gently, they shifted until she lay beneath him; his eyes never left hers as she allowed him to unbutton and unzip her cargos, sliding them slowly down her body. He pulled away, drinking her in as she lay beneath him in nothing but her bra and underwear. Though he'd known Ziva since they were children, it always amazed him at how... stunning she was. She may have possessed the same dark skin and eyes and olive complexion everyone in Israel did, but there was something different about her- something... unique. She wasn't _exactly_  like other girls. If anything, she was... exotic. He chuckled inwardly. An ordinary Israeli girl like Ziva... an exotic beauty?

"What?" She sat up, glancing down at herself. "Am I not... pleasing enough for you, Tim? I know I am not... like Deena, but..."

He rested a finger to her lips, silencing her before she embarrassed herself. "Shh. Ziva, you're perfect." She pressed a soft kiss to his finger, before helping him out of his jeans. Her hands moved over the hem of his boxers, but her grabbed her wrist, meeting her gaze. "We _shou'dn't_  be  _doin'_  this, Ziva-"

She sighed, reaching up to grab his chin. "You rebel all the time, Tim. You and Sarah. Did you ever consider, that maybe I want to rebel too?" She caught his mouth in hers, sliding her arms around his neck. Soon, their undergarments came off, and Tim pulled away. Ziva pushed herself to her elbows, watching as he removed the condom wrapper from the back pocket of his jeans. For some reason, he'd grabbed it today before leaving the house and slipped it into his pocket, not entirely sure why-

He met Ziva's gaze, and it suddenly became clear why. Ziva was determined to do this; if anything, he'd better follow along or she'd never stop pestering him.

Their mouths met in hungry kisses, and slowly, carefully, Tim pressed against her. "I'm so sorry, Ziva. I don't mean _t'_  hurt you-" She nodded, hissing softly as he broke her, her nails dug into his back, leaving small crescent indents into his skin. As they soon found a steady rhythm, Ziva let herself relax and enjoy the experience.

No, she couldn't imagine doing this with anyone but Tim.

Their mouths met again, tasting and teasing and joining as their bodies were, the heat from the desert sands outside nothing compared to the heat they were creating within the carrier. Eventually, their cries mingled and they reached for each other as orgasm took over-

When they finally collapsed together, Tim shifted, being careful not to crush her as he shifted onto his back on the floor of the carrier. Catching her breath, Ziva snuggled close, content as she lay her head on his chest. The erratic beat of his heart matched hers, and she sighed, relaxed. He slid an arm around her, holding her to him. They lay in silence for several minutes, before she shifted onto her elbow. "Why did you hide it from me?"

He met her gaze. "Hide what?"

"The letter. From... MEC..."

"MIT." She nodded.

"Right. Why did you hide it from me, Tim? Do you not trust me?"

He sighed, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. "I never actually though' I'd get in."

"What?" He glanced at her.

"I applied  _a'_  the start of this school year... didn't think they'd  _ac'ually_  accept me.  _'twas_  a complete shock when I _go' th'_  letter _sayin'_  I  _go'_  in."

"So... you hid it because you were surprised?"

A moment passed, before he took a deep breath. "Partially. And then... it seemed like... no one  _wou'd_  care if I  _lef'_  for school... I figured... if I  _go'_  in and returned  _t' th'_  states, then... by the time I stepped off  _th'_  plane at JFK  _Airpor'_ , no one here  _wou'd_  even  _no'ice_  I was gone."

"Oh, Tim..." He glanced at her. "I would have noticed." He snorted softly.

"No,  _ye wou'dn't 'ave,_  Ziva."

"How can you say that? Of course I would have. I... I would have... wondered where you had gone, and... if you had gotten hurt... and... gone looking for you." She lay back down, resting her head on his chest. "I love you, Tim. I would miss you, if you went away."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her head.


	9. Chapter 9

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_1996_

"Must you go, Tim?"

He sighed, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. "My _fligh'_  is already booked, Ziva. My classes are  _se'_  and they're _expectin'_  me on campus for the start of  _th'_ summer term. I  _'ave t'_  go."

Since Tim had graduated early- the following week- everyone had resigned themselves to the fact that he was returning to the States. All previous arguments were being swept under the rug in the wake of Tim's firm decision to go to MIT. And instead of starting in the fall, like he normally would, he'd start not classes with the summer term, to get him situated and used to the west again. For the first couple of days, he'd be staying with his grandmother, Penny Langston, while he got his paperwork and everything situated, before moving into the dorms on campus.

Everyone had taken Tim's leaving in stride, but Ziva had taken it hard- harder than Sarah even. And Sarah had spent the entire night before in her brother's bed, wrapped in his arms, sobbing. The last thing Sarah wanted was for her big brother to go away and leave her behind.

"No. Call them. Tell them you change your mind." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the Israeli's head.

"I can't.  _An'_  even if I could, I _wou'dn't_. I want _t'_  go, Ziva. You'll be fine. We'll talk _ev'ry_  day. I promise."

"But-"

"Zivaleh, let Tim breathe."

Slowly, she turned as her older brother- well, half-brother, Ari, stepped forward. Ari was ten years older than Ziva and Tim, and had looked after them when he was a teenager; though Ari couldn't stand most Americans, he was quite fond of Tim and his sister, and even Kathleen and John- to an extent. Despite the views the majority of Americans held in regards to the Israeli-Palestine conflict, the McGees looked on both sides as a people in dire need of reconciliation, not two countries in need of foreign-led war. And he had watched how close his younger sister and the oldest of the McGee children had gotten; silently, he approved the match, even if his parents weren't particularly concerned with matching Ziva up with someone. In Ari's eyes, she'd  _already_ found the person she was destined to spend the rest of her life with- even if neither of the teens knew or remembered it.

Ari held out a hand.  _"Behatzlacha_ , Tim." The younger man grinned, accepting the handshake.

" _Toda_." Ari nodded to him, impressed at how quickly the younger man was speaking like an Israeli. He remembered when they'd first met, how much trouble Tim had had, trying to get his tongue around the foreign words.

"I have something for you." Ari then pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper. He held it out to Tim, who glanced at everyone else and then took it. "I was in Ireland for a short time, and saw this in a small shop in... Derry, I believe is what they call it... and thought of you."

"Londonderry?" Tim asked, meeting Ari's gaze. The older man nodded. "The Bogside?"

"Yes, I think that is what the locals called it."

Giving him a quick smile, Tim quickly undid the paper and lifted the lid of the gift box. His mouth dropped. "What is it? Timmy?" Sarah rushed to him, to peek. After a moment, Tim slowly lifted the object out of the tissue paper, holding it up for everyone to see.

It was a beautiful plaque cast in resin, with a beautiful trinity knot carved out of the top, of which the plaque was carved into below it. Upon the resin, was a blessing in beautiful, black script. He quickly read the blessing to himself, a smile tugging at his features when it rang familiar.

_'May the road rise to meet you._  
_May the wind be always at your back._  
_May sun shine warm upon your face & rains fall soft upon your fields._  
_And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.'_

"Timmy, it's the same blessing we have in the house!" Sarah cried, and he nodded, silent. Then, without a word, Tim made his way to Ari, holding out a hand.

"Thank you." The older man nodded, before pulling him closer and whispering something in his hear. Ziva watched the interaction, suspicious. Not that she didn't trust her brother, but he was keeping something from her- and Ari hardly ever kept secrets from her, no matter how many years there were between them. Tim nodded, surprised, and slipped the plaque back into the box. There was something else besides the plaque in the box- not that Ziva would ever know what it was, now with Tim leaving for college.

Eventually, the others all excused themselves to give him some space, all except Ziva, who stayed. She went to him, sliding her arms around his waist. "No tears, Ziva. We'll still talk. I promise, I'll call  _ev'ry_  day."

She sniffled, meeting his gaze. "I do not want you to go." She whispered, the sudden realization that her best friend was leaving hitting her full in the face. "You are my..." She bit her lip, unable to say what she was thinking. Instead, she turned her gaze to his arms, reaching down and taking his hand. The ring he wore on his left hand glinted in the light- it was familiar, but she couldn't remember where she'd seen it, only that hers was almost an exact replica. "Please, Tim, stay-"

He smiled softly, reaching up to caress her cheek. Then, without a word, he caught her lips in a kiss, pulling her close.

_"All passengers boarding Flight two-fourteen for America-"_  He pulled away.

"That's me. I better go." She nodded, throwing her arms around him and holding him close, trying to memorize everything about him- his feel, his taste, his smell. He nuzzled his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Then, he pressed a quick kiss to her mouth before doing the same to her forehead.  _"I love you."_  The words were soft, meant for her and her alone.

He pulled away, grabbing his carry-on and joining the others boarding the flight. As he stepped into the terminal, he turned back, giving them all a quick smile and a wave, before turning. They watched, all of them, until he disappeared around the corner, but Ziva could no longer see him even before that, for the tears in her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

_Cambridge,_

_Massachusetts_ _,_

_1997_

"Hey Penny."

Penelope Langston looked up as her grandson slipped into the kitchen of the brownstone. "Timothy, sweetheart, I didn't hear you come in!" He accepted the hug as his grandmother rushed to him; with his classes taking precedence- especially since he'd been doing double the work and taking online lectures at John Hopkins in Baltimore- there hadn't been much time for him to stop by and visit. But since he was graduating that winter from MIT- a year early- he'd have a little more time; not enough to go back to Israel to visit his family, where Sarah was finishing up school and going to attend university, but time enough to catch his breath before he moved to Baltimore to get his degree in bio-medical engineering.

Penny was John McGee's mother- her first husband, Samuel, John's father, had been a photographer and journalist for National Geographic- he'd been in Columbia when the Armero earthquake hit back in eighty-five, killing twenty-two thousand. He had been the one to film the now-famous video footage of Omayra Sánchez, the thirteen-year-old girl who'd gotten pinned under the debris of her home, and later died after fifty-five hours in the water.

The photograph, taken by French reporter Frank Fournier, a good friend of Samuel and Penny's, showed the child with white hands, a bloated face and black eyes due to internal bleeding; the image sickened those around the world, and the footage Samuel had captured of the child, of her soft voice and silent courage, later drove him to suicide. Though Penny insisted he'd been suffering from depression for years, she knew better; the footage he'd taken of the child, and the guilt over not being able to help her, had driven him to the deserts of Colombia with a handgun and a written apology to her for not having the strength to get past the haunting images captured on his video camera.

In nineteen-eighty-nine, Penny had met and- in a whirlwind romance- married Jason Langston, a professor at Harvard. The two doted on each other, traveling around the world and doing things most grandparents wouldn't even dream of- such as bungee jumping. And when Tim had moved to Cambridge in ninety-six to go to school, they'd delighted in having him over for dinner every couple weekends or so. Tim barely remembered Samuel; to him, Jason had always been his grandfather, not that either Jason or Penny responded to such "old-fashioned terms."

"Come sit, sweetheart! We'll have green tea." She pushed him towards the kitchen table, quickly pouring two cups of tea and setting one in front of him before sitting down. "What brings you here, love? Is school okay?"

"School's fine, Penny."

"And have you talked to your sister? Or your parents?"

"They're doing fine." He replied, sipping his tea.

"And the  _Da_ vid sisters, have you talked to them?" Tim shrugged; he hadn't had much chance to talk to Ziva with school- though he did manage to e-mail her almost every day, an actual physical phone call was out of the question with his crazy class schedule.

"They're doing good." Penny nodded, gaze moving down to his hands as he cradled the mug against his palms for warmth. Clucking her tongue, she reached out, taking his right hand and pulling it close. She studied it for several minutes, her eyes going over the simple gold band with the small pearl in the center.

"That's a very beautiful ring, Timothy, sweetheart. Where did you get it?"

He pulled his hand away, curling his fingers to be able to study the ring, and furrowed a brow. It was a very beautiful ring... fairly ordinary in its simplicity, but the pearl made it... unique. Kind of like...

"I don't... remember." He whispered. "I've always worn it, for as long as I can remember. Must have... been playing a game with Sarah when we were kids and... used Mom's jewelry..." Penny raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing it.

"Really? You and Sarah were playing with Kathleen's jewelry and she didn't ball either of you out for it?" Tim shrugged.

"Penny, it was... twelve years ago... we probably did get in trouble, but I don't remember it." He glanced at the ring, as his grandmother's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Timothy."

He met her gaze. "What is it now, Penny?"

"You are aware that you're wearing that ring on your right hand."

"So?"

"James wears his ring on the same hand- has since the day we got married." Her grandson raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry... what did you say, Penny?" But before she could say a word, footsteps interrupted her; James entered, on his lunch break, not at all surprised to see his step-grandson having a cup of tea with his wife.

"Hey, Tim, when did you get here?" The younger man looked up; he liked Jason- with his bright blue eyes and ash blonde hair, Jason was a storied intellectual with a thirst for knowledge.

"Half an hour ago." Jason nodded; quickly going through the mail, before stopping. He held a slim envelope out to the younger man. Tim glanced at him, before taking it. "What's this?" He glanced at the envelope, noticing the return address, and his stomach dropped.

_Tel Aviv, Israel_


	11. Chapter 11

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_Two Weeks Earlier_

_1997_

She dashed down the street, books held tight to her chest, the sapphire blue  _hijab_  she wore having slipped down, catching on the messy bun she'd put her hair into; it dangled off her shoulders. She glanced around, searching for someone, but didn't see who she was looking for. Sighing, she turned back, towards the cafe where they were supposed to meet-

"Tali!" A wave of relief rushed through the teenager as she caught sight of her sister, pulling open the door to the local cafe and rushing out to join her. As soon as she reached her, they were a tangle of arms as the two siblings collided. As she pulled away, Ziva reached up, tugging the blue scarf back into place.

"Did you hear from Ari? Is he back in Iran?" Ziva nodded.

"He is back in Tehran, and was heading to the Children's Hospital when I spoke to him." Tali nodded, glancing over her shoulder. The sisters had spent the last year studying abroad in Iran- Ziva at the University of Tehran and Tali at one of the local high schools, staying with their older brother- mainly so they would be out of the way of the violence brewing within Israel, just as the McGees had sent Sarah across the sea to study in Italy for a while- especially since the girl had been learning Italian. Ari had kept careful watch on the girls, accompanying them out as was custom, and dropping the girls off at Professor Nafisi's home to attend her book club, with several other girls to discuss English literature- the majority of which both Ziva and Tali had been familiar with thanks to their friendship with the McGee siblings.

As soon as they'd arrived in Iran, the sisters had been subjected to horrible, restricting rules- from  _chadors_  to hijabs and inspections in regards to makeup, clothing and shoes. So Ari had taken the girls in search of hijabs, for both refused to wear the  _chador_. Ari had watched with delight in his eyes as his sisters had searched through various headscarves, picking out colors they liked- eventually, Tali had found the sapphire blue one, and had been content with her choices, but it had taken Ziva a little longer. She hated that they were being shoved into customs that they didn't think about, let alone follow, that they were scrutinized at every turn, and treated as second-class citizens simply because of their gender. After several more minutes of looking, Ziva had stopped, something catching her eye.

The scarf was beautiful- a rich, bright emerald green, made of delicate cotton threads. As she gazed at the scarf, she felt as though she were looking in Tim's eyes. It was soft beneath her fingers, and a twinge of heartbreak had caught her in its grip, as she realized that she may never see him again. Along with a few others, she'd bought the scarf, and for the first few days, hadn't let it out of her sight.

Over the course of the year in Iran, Tali had developed a crush on- and started a relationship with- a young Iranian man who had once been one of Professor Nasifi's youngest students, having started college the year before at sixteen. Though he was a year older than Tali, he was quiet, cautious, focused more on school than any sort of sexual relationship, though he did indeed like Tali, and the two took things slow.

Now that they were back in Tel Aviv, however, Ziva rarely thought of Iran with the exception of Ari, who'd come home the week before for break. And the sisters had taken to wearing the scarves on hot Israeli days, the material protected their heads and skin from the burning sun; and Ziva... well, whenever she wore the green scarf, she felt as though Tim were with her instead of back in America. The girls had tried to find some semblance of normalcy in the last few months- especially since Rivka had been killed in a Hamas bombing up in Ammon. That had left the sisters with their father, who was already beginning to exert a good touch of control over both girls- Ziva had begun training with the Mossad officers, and, like many young men and women of her age in Israel, she had joined  _Tzahal_ \- the IDF as the West knew it.

"Come on.  _Tali_!" The girl turned back, seeing the worry in her sister's eyes. "I got a letter from Tim, and he sent something with it." She pulled a small, wrapped package out of her knapsack; the blue ribbon was tied in a neat bow, begging to be untied. "What do you say we open it over coffee and some  _hamantash_." The sisters shared a laugh, before heading towards the cafe. But just as they moved to return to the cafe, the building exploded, sending debris, body parts and shrapnel everywhere.

The girls were slammed to the ground by the ripples of the blast; screams and sirens soon filled the air as dust and the smell of death permeated their senses. "Ziva?" Tali pushed herself up, memories of the car crash Tim and her sister had been in nearly three years prior coming back full blast. Ziva moaned softly, slowly pushing herself up. "You are okay-"

"Why would I not be, Tali?" She asked, slowly getting to her feet. She had a cut across her forehead and was covered in dust and smoke, but otherwise okay. Once she as certain her sister was okay, she made her way towards the cafe to help look for survivors.

The  _snap!_  of a shotgun blast caused her to turn back-

Her gaze caught Tali's as the younger girl lifted her head, shock in her eyes at the sight of blood exploding from her chest.  _"Talia!"_  She rushed back towards her sister, reaching her just as she began to crumble; a couple others rushed to help, and soon, there was a crowd gathered around the quartet, watching as the teenager fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from a bullet to the chest.

" _Tali! Tali, look at me! Tali!"_  Ziva had stumbled to her knees, grabbing the younger girl's shoulders as she began to fall; the others there to help gently lowered her to the cement. Slowly, Tali's gaze moved to the side, meeting her sister's, and her arms fell to rest beside her head as the two men released her to the street beneath her body.  _"Tali!"_  Someone began pressing their hands to the teen's chest, another rushed to call for an ambulance, but all Ziva focused on was her sister.  _"Tali, listen to me! Tali! You have... to listen to me... you have to stay... stay with me... please... Tali please... do not leave me alone... Tali, stay with me! Stay with me!"_

Slowly, the girl struggled to lift her head, to get up, to raise her arms, but the simple action stole the final breath from her body, and she collapsed, her head softly hitting the ground beneath her.  _"Tali, no! Tali, stay with me!"_  Those around the sisters knew it was no use, for not only had her heart stopped, but blood soon began pouring out of her nose and mouth, dripping onto the road and rushing over her open, glazed eyes, their focus forever locked on her older sister.

"I am sorry, but she is dead." But Ziva didn't hear the man who spoke, she only focused on her sister.

_"Tali!"_

Without a second thought, Ziva shifted, pulling her legs beneath her and her sister's body into her arms, holding her against her chest. It was an eerie image, this young woman, cradling the body of her sister in her arms, the young girl's head against her chest, eyes open and blank, blood pouring from her nose and mouth and staining the woman's clothes.

A moment passed, as Ziva shifted her hold on her sister, pulling her closer, removing the green headscarf she wore and using it to wipe the blood from her sister's nose and mouth. To those watching, it was almost as if she were comforting a crying child- something Ziva had done since she was old enough to grasp the meaning of being an older sister.

A prayer soon began to fall from her lips, as heart-breakingly beautiful and tragic as the image of her cradling her sister's lifeless body. She didn't hear the car doors slam or footsteps rush to her, Kathleen's voice, or see Ambassador McGee as he rushed to her. She didn't hear the click of cameras, or even realize, that soon, the photographs of her sister's death and her reaction after the bombing would soon be seen around the world.

She only saw Tali, and her sister's sapphire-colored scarf, soaking up the blood in which her sister's body had lay.


	12. Chapter 12

_Cambridge,_

_Massachusetts_

With shaking hands, he opened the envelope, pulling out a letter. Slowly, he unfolded it, recognizing Ziva's familiar handwriting. As his eyes began to scan the contents, he sank back into his chair. He'd climbed to his feet, coffee cup in hand, but as soon as the contents of the letter met his gaze, he stopped. His breath caught.

_Tali... dead... bombing... Hamas... gunshot..._

"Tim, what is it?" After a moment, he looked up, to find Penny and Jason watching him. Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to clear his throat. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe-

"Ah... it's from... Ziva."

"The oldest David girl?" Penny asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. She... said that... she and Tali were... heading to a cafe in downtown Tel Aviv, when it... it exploded and..." He heard Penny gasp. "They were okay, but..." He swallowed thickly. "As soon as Ziva moved to... to help survivors... Tali was shot... died... died in Ziva's arms..."

"Oh dear God. I can't imagine what her parents are feeling-"

"Her father." Tim whispered. "Rivka... Rivka was killed in a bombing in Ammon... a few months ago. God, I..." He set the letter down, running a hand over his face. "I  _canna_  imagine  _wha'_  she's _goin'_  through." He looked up when Penny took his hand.

"You need to call her." A moment passed, before he nodded. "Give her our sincerest condolences." Without a word, he stood, grabbing the cordless from the wall and slipping upstairs. Once he reached the guest bedroom, he took a seat on the bed, dialing the number with a glance at Ziva's letter. He waited, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

It was evening, if not midnight or two in the morning in Israel-

Just as he was about to hang up and resolve to call her later in the evening, when it was daylight there, a soft voice answered. "Hello?"

"He... Ziva? It... it's me."

"I was hoping you would call, Tim. I was beginning to think-" She stopped, sniffling. "You got my letter?"

He nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, I did. God, Ziva, I'm so sorry, I  _canna_  even imag-" He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose to get his swirling thoughts in order. "Have you had the funeral yet?"

"No.  _Abba_  ordered an autopsy... the coroner will give us back her body today and her funeral will be the day after tomorrow." She took a shaky breath. Hearing Tim's voice on the other side of the line gave her a strength she'd been missing since Tali died, but it also brought fresh tears. To have both her mother and- now- her sister dead, Ari in Iran and Tim clear in America- "Please say you will come, Tim."

He sighed, laying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "Ziva, I have classes to-"

" _Please_ , Tim. I need you..." A moment passed, before he sighed and got up, heading downstairs and settling in the seat at the desk and quickly pulling up travel plans on Penny's computer. He could feel Jason and Penny's eyes on him, but focused only on Ziva and Tali at the moment. Minutes passed in silence, minutes that Ziva relished, just _knowing_  he was on the end of the line. Eventually, he spoke.

"All right, I'll be catching the red-eye- well, for me it'll be a red-eye- at about five a.m."

"Okay. I... I will meet you at the airport." She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Tim."

"Don't mention it, Ziva." When they hung up, he sat back in the chair, propping his elbows on the armrests and steep-ling his hands, pressing his index fingers into his forehead. He felt a headache coming on. "Please, don't tell me I've made the wrong decision."

"Oh, sweetheart, you've made the best decision you could. And Ziva... she needs you right now." He turned to her as she took a seat on the sofa.

"I just booked a flight to _Israel_ , Penny-"

"I know." She quickly got up, going to him. "And you did it because Ziva needs you. Tim, she just lost her sister. Put yourself in her shoes. Imagine if you lost Sarah, wouldn't you want her to be there?" He sighed, pulling away and picking up the envelope and letter.

"I know. I just-" But he stopped, when something caught his eye. Slowly, he pulled what appeared to be a couple of newspaper clippings out of the envelope. As he unfolded them, his breath caught, seeing the photographs in the center of the pages. It was evident that the girl sitting on the ground was Ziva, with Tali cradled in her arms. Her beautiful features were twisted in anguish, and he could see blood coating her hands.

Quickly, his eyes scanned the heading; his Hebrew wasn't so bad that he couldn't read the title-

_Unknown Number of Hamas Casualties, as One Survivor Weeps for a Victim_

The second article was a French newspaper, the third, an Italian one... so on and so on, until he finally recognized the familiar heading of the New York Times.

_Violence in Israel Continues; Mass Casualties of Cafe Bombing;_

_Youngest Daughter of Deputy Director of Mossad among Victims_

He swallowed; the photograph turned his stomach as much as the famous photograph of Omayra Sanchez or the footage of her did.

_In the aftermath of a Hamas suicide bombing at a cafe in downtown Tel Aviv, Israel... while both girls were caught in the blast, only Talia, sixteen, the Deputy Director_  Da _vid's youngest daughter, was killed._   _Her older sister, Ziva, eighteen, sustained minor injuries in the bombing that killed over one hundred. A private funeral will be held for Talia..._

He set the clippings down, taking a deep breath. It stunned him, that Tali- sweet, innocent, curious Tali- would lose her life to such violence. Tali wasn't like other girls- she wasn't even like her sister. Not that Ziva wasn't, but she never showed it, unlike Tali, who'd always showed it...

Tali had compassion, deep compassion; the very thing this world needed, and yet, one single, ongoing act of violence, had so cruelly taken that compassion from the earth with Tali's final breath.


	13. Chapter 13

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

He was tired; exhausted, really, not that he cared all that much. As he stepped out of the terminal, his gaze searched for a familiar face-

She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck once she got close enough, burrowing into his shoulder. They stood together for several minutes, before she pulled away and took his face in her hands, drinking in his features. Her mouth soon met his in a deep, tender kiss, and she rested her forehead to his before wrapping his arms once again around his neck. He slid his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and holding her close. "I thought you would never get here."

He squeezed gently, pressing a kiss to her head before setting her down. "Ziva, I'm so-" But she rested a finger to his lips, shaking her head.

"You are tired. And you must be hungry. Come on." She took his hand, leading him to baggage claim and then out to the car her father had sent. As they settled in the backseat, Tim glanced at her.

She had grown up since they'd last seen each other; though they were the same age, she was beginning to lose her girlishness and gain the figure of a woman. Her hair was still the same tangled, curly mass it had always been, but behind her brave countenance was unending sorrow. Slowly, he reached out, taking her hand. She turned at the contact, giving him a small smile.

Eventually, they reached her apartment, and Ziva directed him to the guest room. When he'd told her he'd be there, she insisted he stay with her instead of a hotel, stating that it was cheaper than a hotel, although the real reason was more for the fact that she didn't want to be alone. The apartment had been her Aunt Nettie's, and she'd given it to Ziva as a high school graduation gift, telling her that every girl needed a place of her own. It wasn't very far from her father's apartment, not that Ziva cared.

Once he put his things away, he wandered into the kitchen, finding her fixing coffee. "Do you need some help?" She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"No, I am okay, Tim. But you are tired. Maybe you should lie down-"

"I'm fine, Ziva. I promise. Just... call it shock, I guess. I never..." She went to him, holding out the cup. "I never expected Tali... she had compassion... that's the  _only_  way I can think to describe her..."

"She... was the best of us." Ziva whispered, sipping her coffee. Her hands shook, and after a moment, he took the mug from her hands, pulling her into his arms. She slid her own arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, trying hard not to cry. They stayed like that for several minutes, before Tim pulled away.

"I'm so sorry, Ziva." She nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He could taste the salt from her tears, and gently, he pulled away, brushing the wild curls from her face. "I don't know about you, but I think I might lie down for a while." She nodded. "Care to join me?"

They curled up together in the guest bedroom, wrapped tight around each other like puppies. After a moment, she reached up, brushing her fingers between the gaps in his button-down to rest against his chest; the feel of his heart beneath her fingers brought a comfort she'd been desperate for since Tali died. Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside before curling closer and resting her head against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heart in her ear.

And suddenly, it brought back the very real fact that Tali's heart was no longer beating-

She broke down, choking on a sob as she buried herself further in his embrace. Everything she'd been holding back for two weeks came rising to the surface, and she tangled her fingers in his shirt, deep sobs wracking her small body. Tim tightened his hold on her, pressing a soft kiss to her head as he let her cry. She had witnessed her sister's death, had held Tali in her arm as she'd died, had watched the girl take her final breath... she'd witnessed Death first hand, felt its touch as her sister's body grew cold, tasted its kiss as the blood seeped from Tali's body onto her sister's hands.

Ziva was only eighteen. She'd lost her mother and her sister, and, in her mind, she'd lost both Tim and Sarah- and even Ari- as well, leaving her with only her father. In her mind, she had no one else to seek comfort from, no one to tell her that it was okay to grieve Tali's loss...

Tim pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. He could only imagine the pain Ziva was currently in; the horror she'd felt at watching the life drain out of her sister's body. He swallowed; if he had lost Sarah in such a horrific way... he'd never forgive himself. And he was pretty sure that Ziva was feeling the same way. Blaming herself for Tali's death, when she hadn't even remotely been the cause. If anything, the girl's death was a terrifying, absolutely devastating accident.

But then again, Tim didn't know the facts, other than what Ziva had told him she'd witnessed.

When her sobs finally calmed, she pulled away, meeting his gaze. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek; she caught his hand, pressing a firm kiss to his palm as tears slid down her cheeks.


	14. Chapter 14

The soft feel of something brushing against his cheek roused him from his slumber, and after a moment, his green eyes opened to reveal the object of his minor irritation. He raised his arms over his head, stretching, allowing the muscles and joints in his body to shift and pop with the languid movement. She propped herself on her elbow, watching silently as he stretched, gaze following the smooth movement of every plane of his body. At eighteen, he was tall and slender, and as pale as a ghost.

But she attributed that to the fact that he had yet to spend some real time in the Israeli sun.

Silent, she reached out, brushing a hand over his chest, trailing it over his pecs and down his stomach. Her fingers splayed across the firmness of his abs, and after a moment, she leaned over, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. " _Boker tov_." He studied her features, whispering it back to her. A tiny smile flitted across her face; his Hebrew was rusty, but understandable. She kissed him again, distracting him as her pinkie dove into the curve of his navel, scraping gently against the sensitive skin before she pulled away and slid her hand further down. He grabbed her wrist, meeting her gaze.

"It's your sister's funeral today, Ziva."

"It is four in the morning, Tim. Tali's..." She stopped, swallowing thickly. "It is not until ten." She pulled her hand out of his and shifted, moving until she was perched on his stomach. "I do not think Tali will mind." She leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to his lips. "We did it last night... please, Tim. I... I need to know that... that I am not alone..." He reached up, taking her face in his hand.

"You're never alone, Ziva. You've never been alone."

They spent two hours making love and then got up, taking a long, hot shower together. It was then that the realization of what was going to happen today hit her, and she broke down, holding onto him as her grief took control.

Afterwards, the four young adults gathered at Ziva's place, and over coffee, discussed everything except what had gone on that morning. The funeral had been small, private; just family and close friends- Sarah had returned from Italy, and their parents were also in attendance. Everyone Tali loved most was there to tell her goodbye. Ziva had stood with Ari and her father, the last of her family, holding tight to her brother's hand, tears brimming in her eyes.

But now, she sat on the sofa in her apartment, curled into Tim's side, as melancholy as the McGee siblings had ever seen her. She hadn't said a word since the funeral, and Ari was afraid that the darling little girl he'd loved and protected for years was gone. "Tim, can we talk?" A moment passed, as the oldest McGee sibling struggled to disentangle himself from Ziva; she clung tighter, but it was with a soft kiss and a promise that he'd be back that finally got her to let go. Once he was up, Sarah quickly took his place, cuddling with the older girl.

Once they were in the kitchen, Tim turned to the older man. Ari had since gotten his degree at Edinburgh College in Scotland, and had spent some time working in England before returning to Israel to work in the camps along the Gaza strip. He studied the younger man before him. Tim had grown up in the two years since he'd been in the States; he'd gotten taller, filled out a little more, gained a confidence that no one was aware he'd been lacking. " _Wha'_  did  _ye wanna_  talk _'bout_?"

Ari chuckled softly; it always amused him how Tim's accent came out when he was stressed or nervous. A moment passed, before he poured a couple cups of coffee, setting one in front of Tim. The younger man thanked him, wrapping his hands around it. They stood in silence for several minutes before Ari cleared his throat, causing Tim to look up. "Thank you, for coming back, Tim."

The young American nodded, taking sip of his coffee and then setting the cup down. "I just... wish it were under better circumstances." He swallowed, slowly meeting Ari's gaze. "Do you know how-"

"She was shot." Ari whispered, the warmth in his voice thickened with sadness. "From what Zivaleh said, she... she survived the bombing and then... it struck her heart and pierced her lung, she bled out." Tim forced himself to swallow. "She did not deserve such a horrific way to die." A moment passed, before he gave Tim a small, quick smile. "You take care of her, Tim."

The younger man furrowed a brow, sipping his coffee. "Who?"

"Ziva. She needs you now, maybe more than ever."

Tim glanced back towards the living room. "I have to go back to the states in the next couple of days, Ari. I have to finish school, I can't stay here, much as I would want to." Ari nodded, but grabbed Tim's wrist as he moved to return to the living room. Tim turned back, confused.

"Listen to me, Tim. You need to take care of my remaining sister. She needs you. And she's going to need you a lot more later on in life."

"I'll always take care of Ziva, Ari. But I can't do that as a university stu-" Ari pulled him close.

"Once you finish your studies and Ziva goes to America, then you look out and protect her. Because that is what a good husband does."

Tim stiffened, as Ari released his wrist and returned to the living room.


	15. Chapter 15

She stretched, reaching out for him; her hand hit nothing but cold sheets and pillow-

As her dark eyes opened, she found that though the bed was empty, she certainly hadn't dreamt last night; his side of the bed was wrinkled, the covers thrown back. She pushed herself up, quickly glancing at the alarm clock.

Just past six.

She found no sign of Tim in the apartment, though she did discover that his things were still there, so he hadn't left yet. But then again, he was leaving tomorrow, not today, which meant she had little more than twenty-four hours left with the McGee siblings before they boarded their respective planes- for Sarah was also leaving, returning to Italy for school.

As she quickly showered and dressed, her mind returned to the night before- after Ari had taken Sarah back to her hotel- she was staying with her roommate who'd come with her- Ziva and Tim had retired, curling up in bed together. They'd talked for hours about Tali; their favorite memories of her and imagining what kind of adult she'd have become, had she been given the chance. At one point, Ziva had broken down, burrowing into his chest, and at some point, she'd found comfort in his kiss. They'd made love for hours, screaming each others' names, falling asleep tangled in each others' arms. Ziva had found that Tim being there lessened the heartache over Tali's death-

She turned from the window she'd been staring at when the door opened and he stepped inside, a bag of groceries in one hand, and two cups of coffee in the other. As soon as he set the bag down and removed his light jacket, she rushed to him. Her arms went around his neck, and their lips met in a gentle kiss before she pulled away and took the coffees from him, taking them into the kitchen and setting them on the table. "I was worried when I found you were not here. Thank you for the coffee, I completely forgot to buy more..." She continued to prattle on as she helped him unload the groceries, unaware of how quiet he was. "Tim? Tim?"

He looked up, brow furrowing. "What is it?"

"Are you okay? You are horribly quiet."

"Awfully, Ziva." He corrected gently. And then, without another word, he excused himself and made a beeline for the living room, dropping onto the sofa. Ziva watched him before grabbing their cups and following. She held his out to him as she sat, and he thanked her with a soft smile. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

"Tim, talk to me, please." She waited, knowing that if she pushed him, her best friend would only shut down. He sipped his coffee, biding time to gather his thoughts. Slowly, she reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "Whatever it is, we can through it together. We are best friends; we have always been able to tell each other everything."

He sighed, finally meeting her gaze as he lowered mug, keeping his hands firmly wrapped around it. "You... got a phone call this morning."

"I... did not hear the phone."

"That's because you were doing your whole drunken sailor thing."

She furrowed a brow. "What... drunken sailor thing?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? You snore."

Ziva snorted in derision. " _I do not!"_

"Oh yes you _do_ , Ziva. You snore like a drunken sailor suffering from emphysema, and that's putting it politely." She glared at him, smacking him lightly on the cheek before taking the cup from him and setting it on the coffee table. She slid her hands through his, brushing her thumbs over his knuckles to calm him. He fell silent, becoming lost in his own thoughts again.

"Tim? You said someone called this morning? Who was it?"

"Your father." She started, his words sending a jolt of horror through her spine.

"What? Why? What could he possibly be wanting to talk to me about at-"

"He didn't want to talk to you, Ziva. He wanted to talk to me."

"And you met with him?" She watched him bite his lip. "Where?"

"At the cafe, after I picked up the groceries."

"What did he want to talk about?"

Tim swallowed, squeezing her hands. "Us. He... he thinks we are getting too close-"

"That is _ridiculous_ -"

"And then he told me that," Tim took a deep breath closing his eyes. With Tali dead and laid to rest the day before, he didn't understand why Mr.  _Da_ vid had brought such a subject up- or why his father had agreed to it. In fact, he didn't understand why they were meddling at all. "that if his daughter was going to be sleeping with her best friend, then we should plan for a..." He swallowed hard. "A spring... wedding."

Her eyes widened. "A spring... Tim-"

But he shook his head, his eyes shut tight, as though he could stop replaying the conversation in his head. " _Da,_  he... he agreed and they... they want to start planning as soon as... they want us both to forgo our studies and..." He stopped, finally forcing his eyes open.

_"Certain things are not permitted within our religion, Timothy, but you have grown up with Ziva. Might as well have been born with her. You know her better than her mother or I ever did or ever will. You are good for my daughter, and now that Talia is gone... Ziva needs a happiness I cannot give her. But you can. I believe our religion will make an exception, for you. Your father agrees as well, and the matchmaker... she approves the match- a rare feat for a woman whom usually chooses the matches herself. You both have our blessings, and we will prepare for the next spring."_

Ziva swallowed, suddenly worried when he didn't continue. "Timmy? Timmy, you are scaring me." She reached up, taking his face in her hands. "Talk to me."

He took a deep breath, slowly meeting her gaze. "Your father... and mine, they... they basically informed me that... I am going to marry you."

"Without consulting us?"

He nodded. "Pretty much."

"Tim, I... I love you-"

"I told your father no." He pulled away, his admission stunning her. "I'm eighteen. I can't just... drop everything to marry a girl, even if she is my best friend. Besides, we both have school to finish, and... a marriage separated by oceans and land seems rather pointless." He shook his head. "I'm not going to get married when I have no means of supporting my wife."

"But Tim-"

The young American set his jaw, shaking his head as he got up. "I was able to catch an earlier flight; I'm going back to the States today. It leaves at nine."

She reached for his hand, stopping him. "Tim, I love you. Do you not feel the same way?"

He met her gaze. "Of course I love you, Ziva. But just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to  _marry_  you." She watched as he then made his way back to the bedrooms, leaving her alone, his words ringing in her head.

_Just because I love you doesn't mean I'll marry you._


	16. Chapter 16

_"No."_

"Ziva, I have to go-"

"No, Tim, stay."

"Ziva, I can't-"

"You do not _want_  to-"

"No, Ziva, I  _can't_ -"

"Yes you can. Our parents already thought of the solution-"

"No, Ziva."

"But-"

_"No."_

"I thought you loved me."

"Ziva, I do love you."

"Then stay. Marry me. Then we can always play house like we used to when we were children-"

"Ziva, this isn't a game-"

"I know-"

"Then _let_  me  _go._ "

_"No."_

"Ziva... God, Ziva..."

"I let you go once-"

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'no salt on her tail?'"

"Salt on whose tail?"

"Never mind."

"No, what is it? I want to know, Tim. Tell me, please."

"It's an expression. It means... that if you love something, then you need to set it free."

"Why?"

"Because... because you just need to."

"But... that is stupid, Tim. If you let it go, what if it never comes back? What then?"

"Not all expressions are perfect, Ziva."

"I cannot let you go."

"Ziva, you  _have_  to. I have school and you do also-"

_"No."_

"God, Ziva... don't cry. Please, don't cry."

"Then do not go."

"Ziva... hush, please. No more crying. That's all you've done for the last three weeks-"

"Because I am losing everyone I love... the man I love..."

"Ziva... baby..."

"I am not a baby, Tim."

"You're mine.  _Ouch!_ "

"You called me a baby-"

" _No_ , I  _said_  you're... it's another-"

"Stupid American expression?"

"More like a term of endearment. A pet name, for a lover."

"Oh."

"Stop. Ziva, stop. No more tears. You're going to make yourself sick, baby."

"I do not care."

"Well I do care-"

"How can you care when you are going all the way back to America and leaving me here?"

"Ziva-"

"How is that fair?"

"Don't make this any harder than it already is,  _please_ -"

"You are leaving me-"

"Do you think I want to go? Do you think I'm enjoying the thought of having to tear myself away from you? It's killing me. But I can't stay. Not now."

"Not ever."

"Ziva, I didn't  _say_  that-"

"You might as well have-"

"Now you're putting words in my mouth-"

"I have put nothing in your mouth-"

"It's an expression! It means you're making this harder than it should be-"

"Oh. I am?"

"... yes."

"Good."

"Do you have to be so violent?"

"I  _hate_  you."

"Yeah, I  _gathered_  that."

"Tim, I love you."

"There's a second part to that quote."

"What?"

"That quote; there's a second part to it, but I can't remember it."

"What quote?"

" _'If you love something, set it free.'_ "

"Oh. That stupid quote."

"Yes, that 'stupid quote.'"

"You will go back to America and forget all about me, Tim. And you will meet an American girl and marry her and have American babies..."

"Now you're just worrying over nothing, Ziva-"

"It is not nothing. You will never come back... because you will stop loving me-"

"That's not going to happen-"

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

" _Yes, it is._ "

_"Ziva."_

"It is true-"

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"I'm not having this argument with you."

"Why?"

"Because you play dirty."

"I thought you liked it when I play dirty."

"Yeah, in  _bed_. Playing dirty in bed and playing dirty to win an argument are two entirely different things."

"They are not."

"Ziva,  _don't start_."

"Then do not go."

"Ziva! Now we're just running in circles."

"But we are standing still."

"It's an expres- okay, now you're pretending. No one is that stupid in regards to expressions and idioms."

"I am not stupid."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yes you did."

"No, I said that you're pretend- never mind. It's not worth it."

"So I am not worth it?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant... you know what, forget it. It would take all day to explain, and I have a flight to catch."

"Tim-"

"No, Ziva. No more tears. No more, you hear me? That's not how I want to remember you-"

"So you are never coming back-"

"I just meant... I want to remember you smiling, and the way your eyes light up and how your nose wrinkles when you laugh. That way I'll have something to look forward too through the boring-ness of classes and the endless drone of professors. It's always easier to get through a tough class if you have something to smile about. Like you."

"It is?"

"Mm hmm."

"Then I will think of  _you_ -"

"Shh, hush, baby. Please, Ziva."

"Tim-"

"Hey, look at me."

"What is it?"

"Summer will be here soon, and I'll come back. We'll both be out of school by then... we can discuss what to do then about the-"

"Baby?"

_"What?"_

"Tim, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just, thought you said something about a-"

"Baby."

"Oh, _God,_  Ziva, tell me you're  _not_ -"

"Not what?"

"Well, carrying a-"

"Baby."

"Yeah, because we've been so... you little-"

"I was just trying your... vet name for me... on you, baby.  _Ow! What was that for?_ "

"Payback. For nearly giving me a heart attack."

"I am sorry."

"I won't see you for nearly a year, so, I _guess_  I can forgive you."

"Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell you love me?"

"I love you, Ziva."

"I love you too."

"... you know, I remember the end of that quote."

"And?"

" _'If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were.'_ "

"It is not a very nice quote."

"Maybe not, but it's very real."

"I do not like it."

"Well, the whole thing is officially, 'If you love something set it free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't they never were.'"

"Someone."

"What?"

"Someone, not something. You."

"Fine, me then... I love you, Ziva."

_"Flight Four-Nineteen for America is now boarding."_

"That's me."

"No."

"Ziva-"

"Tim, no-"

"Ziva, we've already discussed this. Let me go."

"No-"

"Ziva, please. I have to."

"But-"

"I love you. I love you  _so much,_  baby."

"... I..."

_"All passengers for Flight Four-Nineteen, please begin to board."_

"I have to go. I love you, Ziva.. oh, baby,  _I love you so, so much_."

She choked on a sob as he wrenched himself out of her grasp, grabbing his bag and heading for the terminal. As he handed the stewardess his boarding pass, he glanced back her way, giving her a quick smile. Then, as the stewardess watched, he made a heart with his hands- something Tali used to do when they were children- mouthing those three little words before he took his pass back and picked up his bag.

It took a moment, but once she'd caught her breath, she returned Tali's symbol, blowing him a kiss and calling out to him as he headed into the terminal with a glance back.

"I love you too, baby."


	17. Chapter 17

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_1998_

She let out a squeal as he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her a couple inches off the ground. On instinct, her arms latched around his neck, and she had to roll her neck in attempt to dislodge her ponytail from between their bodies. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on her, squeezing her waist once before setting her back on her feet. Once back on the sand, she quickly adjusted the cups of her bikini top, the red striped bikini only served to further accent her olive skin. "You are wet."

"And you're dry." He replied, kissing her sweetly as she ran her hands up his chest. "So, how about we remedy the situation?"

And without another word, he scooped her up and dropped her in the water, before rushing back up the beach, to where they had laid out their things. "Hey!" He only turned back when she came sputtering out of the water.

"Oh, Ziva's gonna be mad, Timmy."

He turned, dropping down beside his little sister and grabbing one of the towels. "Sarah, you do realize we're at the beach? Who brings a book on vacation?"

"A McGee."

Both siblings turned as Ari joined them, removing his drink and handing the holder to Tim, who set it between him and Sarah and removed his own. The seventeen-year-old let out a growl of annoyance when her older brother roughly shoved her shoulder, causing her to lose her place.

" _Yer_  a real  _bogger, ye_  know  _tha'_ , Timmy!"

"Oh, you're certainly _talkin'_  like an  _'talian_ , Sarah, accent and all." He replied, sticking his tongue out as she glared at him; hitting him lightly with her book and regretfully setting it aside. She didn't particularly want to hunt for the page she'd been on at the moment, and so grabbed her drink instead. Ari watched the siblings, a bemused smile on his face.

"You did not have to hit him, Sarah. I was planning on hitting him myself." All three turned as Ziva made her way towards them, dripping wet. Without another word, she climbed into Tim's lap, taking his drink and taking a sip.

"You have one of your own, you know-"

But Ziva simply shrugged and handed it back before she reached up, tugging the tie from her hair. She shoo her head, spraying water everywhere and hitting Tim the face.

" _Hey!_ "

"I'm sorry, baby. Did I get you wet?" She mocked, turning to him and taking his face in her hands; he glared at her. She pouted, resulting in him rolling his eyes and sliding his arms around her waist, kissing her softly.

The four young adults were spending some time at Gordon Beach, before they all returned to school at the end of the summer. Ari had returned from Turkey, where he'd been working at the Children's Hospital in Ankara, Tim and Sarah had returned from their respective schools to spend the summer with Ziva. She'd met them both at the airport, ecstatic beyond words to see them. There had been no mention of a marriage, no mention of a wedding, and no mention of Ziva and Ari's father; though they had stopped by the Embassy to see their parents. Sarah was staying with their parents while she was Tel Aviv, and Ari was staying with friends, while Tim stayed with Ziva.

"So, what do we do tonight?" Sarah asked, grabbing her drink and taking a sip. Ziva shrugged, leaning back against Tim's chest. Ari glanced at the three teenagers; he'd spent his childhood watching over Ziva and the McGee siblings- and with Tali now buried in the family plot- Ari made it his mission to keep a close eye on his last surviving sister. He was determined not to lose her the way they'd lost Talia- to the violence of their country and if Tim and his sister could give her a chance at a life away from such heartache, he was going to make sure she took it.

"How about we have dinner at home?" Ziva's face fell.

"No, Ari. I am not going to  _Abba_ 's for-"

"I meant at your place, Zivaleh." He replied. "We'll have a dinner party. Just the four of us."

The small dinner party was filled with stories of Sarah's misadventures in Italy- from her first taste of espresso to her tumble into the Trevi Fountain during a class tour; Ari's first days in Ankara, and the various lectures Ziva at through. Over glasses of wine, grilled musht with lemon juice and rice, and  _Shkedei marak_  chicken soup, the four discussed plans for the future- Ari was going to stay at the hospital for at least a couple years, and then maybe return to Israel to work in the trauma ward; Sarah had received her acceptance letter from Waverly University in D.C., where she was going to enroll in their writing program; Ziva still had anther couple years in the IDF-

"What about you, Timmy? Weren't you _talkin' 'bout goin'_  up _t'_  Dublin for a while?" Sarah asked, as they moved from dinner to dessert- the sight of Aunt Nettie's Linzer torte making the teenager's mouth water.

He shrugged, and pushed his plate away, folding his arms on the table.

"Timmy, what's wrong?"

He met his sister's gaze, before taking a deep breath. "Actually, I think I'm gonna join the navy."

"What?" Sarah's chair clattered to the floor as she sprang to her feet, rushing to her brother. "But Timmy, you  _hate_  the navy."

"I know." He glanced at her as she knelt next to him, worry in her eyes.

"Then why are you considering it? Is _Da_  pushing you to-"

"No, Sarah. It's my choice. And I guess... I just want something different for a change." She glanced at Ziva and Ari, before turning back to her brother.

"Well, there is one thing  _ye_  could do if  _ye wanna_  change, Timmy."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh yeah?" She nodded, and he suddenly realized what she meant, climbing to his feet. "Oh no.  _'ell no!_  How many times do I have to say it? I'm  _no'_   _marryin'_  Ziva!"

"But you  _love_  her, Timmy-"

"Of _course I do_ , Sarah, she's _m'_  girlfriend! But  _tha'_  doesn't mean we're ready _t'_  get married!" He sighed, turning to the girl in question. "Baby, I love you, so much. But... we aren't ready _t' ge'_ married. We aren't even remotely ready _t'_  move in together..." Slowly, he knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. "I want...  _t'_  make sure I can... give  _ye_  a... _proper_  home when we  _fin'lly_... I want  _t'_  be... financially secure, so _tha'... tha'_  we won't be _strugglin'._.. you  _have_  to know that, Ziva-"

She gave him a small smile, reaching up to caress his cheek. "Of course I do, baby. Security is everything to you. Just like it is to me."

Ari watched his sister tug Tim closer, keeping his mouth shut, though he desperately wanted to enlighten them on how wrong they were.


	18. Chapter 18

_New York City,_

_Manhattan Island,_

_New York_

_2001_

It was slow, this process of a thousand bodies moving through the streets of Manhattan's business district.

"Jesus _fuckin' Christ_."

The roar soon overtook all conversation, all rational thought; it grew louder, the blast as floors began piling one on top of the other, crushing those still trapped inside. Dust and debris began to crash to the streets of Manhattan, people scattered, attempting to outrun the massive cloud of dust, debris and atomized human that was currently barreling down on them.

_"Timmy!"_

At one point, he lost sight of his little sister, having lost his hold on her hand as they'd rushed through the streets, pushing past other people to escape the collapse of the first building. Screaming filled the air as the cloud surrounded those on the streets. When it finally settled and things quieted, she made her way back to him, throwing herself into his arms, clinging to him, small body wracked with sobs that soon quieted at the realization.

He sighed, looking around, allowing his eyes to adjust as he struggled to catch his breath-

"Sarah?"

She choked on a sob. "Timmy? I... I  _canna_  see-"

He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her head, relieved beyond belief that she was safe in his arms, before he reached down and grabbed the cloth headband she'd taken off and stuffed into her pocket. He quickly pressed it to her mouth and nose, before grabbing his own scarf and doing the same. Slowly, the siblings moved away from the cafe door, stumbling out into the chaos. They could hear the screeching of the PASS alerts on the firemen's gear- signalling those down and in distress. Debris and dust covered the streets, having turned everyone and everything grey; the windows of cars were blown out, buildings covered in grime... the men and women of the fire and police were searching for friends and fallen colleagues, looking for survivors, directing anyone they could find out of the business district towards the Hudson.

She tugged on his arm. "What is it, Sarah?"

"We _'ave_  to find  _Mams_ , Timmy!"

A moment passed, before he nodded, turning back in the direction of the towers. He grabbed her arm, keeping her close. "Come on."

They returned to the back the way they came, asking passersby if they'd seen their mother, describing her and their aunt and uncle, and getting nothing in response. But the responses soon turned to screams as the distant crunch of metal could be heard, the crash of floors falling atop each other, and the sight of another, very familiar dust cloud soon appeared, darting around corners and up alleys to trap those still on the streets.

_"Sarah, run!"_

They dashed through the streets once more, this time holding tight to each others' hands, stumbling and slamming into the bodies of their fellow escapees, desperate for a way out. Tim slammed into a delivery van parked outside a small cafe; he pulled Sarah into his arms, pressing her head into his chest and covering her ears, like he used to do when they were children and she was frightened of something; both completely unaware that Sarah's new video camera- the one Tim was holding- was still running, and had captured everything, from their arrival at the towers to meet their mother and aunt and uncle for breakfast at Windows, to the planes, to the collapse of the South and final, subsequent collapse of the North.

The dust cloud that had once been the North tower enveloped them, throwing them and their running companions into the blackest night.

Darkness folded down on them; a darkness that turned an ordinary, beautiful Tuesday morning into a nightmare. Sarah let out a scream, digging her nails into his shirt, and he buried his face in her hair. He could hear people screaming for help, searching for a way out of the darkness that surrounded them.

When finally the cloud settled, Tim opened his eyes. The door to the cafe was open, and the owner- a woman in her forties that reminded him of Rivka- was tugging on them, towards the cafe. "Come on. Inside, hurry."

After a moment, the siblings were able to move away from the van; they rushed through the dust and debris, stumbling into the cafe, to the surprise of the patrons and employees. But as soon as the door closed behind them, the others rushed into action, removing coats and sweaters, getting warm water and towels, pushing Sarah- who still refused to be separated from her brother- into a chair. They worked to wipe the dust from their skin, giving support to the two teenagers who so desperately needed it.

Tim, meanwhile, made his way back to the door, searching the grey outside for any sign of his mother as he pulled out his cell and dialed her number. It went straight to voice mail. Sighing, he quickly checked his messages; now that the lines were clear, the calls could get through-

"Timothy,  _sweethear'_." He choked on a sob, hearing his mother's voice.

Sarah turned to him. "Timmy, what is it?"

He turned to her, giving her a quick wave before turning back to the window. "Is Sarah with you _? Sweethear', somethin'_  hit the tower- _bu'_  we're fine. I'm with  _yer aun' an'_  uncle..." After listening to the message, he went to Sarah, kneeling down to meet her gaze.

"They're okay. Mams said they were together, so... so that means they... they should be fine, right?" Sarah nodded, taking a deep breath.

" _Ye_  promise, Timmy?"

He reached up, caressing her face. His thumb brushed against the apple of her cheek, brushing at the soot that coated her skin. "Promise, Sarah."

But in the end, there was nothing left of their mother, of their aunt and uncle, nor the hundreds of others trapped within the buildings, though neither sibling knew that. Instead, they were listed as 'Missing'- just three smiling faces and glossy photographs among thousands. In the hours after the collapse of the towers, Tim and Sarah wandered the streets of the Business district, asking anyone who passed by if they'd seen their mother, aunt and uncle, always moving on in disappointment as the person or persons shook their head. Eventually, they made their way down to the mass that was to be known as Ground Zero, to help search for survivors, to search for their missing family members, to relieve the first responders of stress by easing their burden as they pulled bodies and body parts from the rubble. Tim informed one of the firemen of the message his mother had left, and the man had promised to keep a look out for Kathleen and her brother-and-sister-in-law, neither knowing that the message was no longer valid, but a last goodbye to her children from what would become her grave.


	19. Chapter 19

_Mossad Headquarters,_

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_2001_

_Hours Later_

They gathered around, eyes glued to the screens as they watched America fall to its knees. When the planes struck, as the buildings smouldered, as people jumped and pressed against the windows, desperate for air, when they finally collapsed under the heat and strain of smoke and fire, and the dust clouds chased those in the streets, some cheered, others gasped, most- even the most hardened of officers- broke into tears.

But Ziva sat, silent, tears and snot dripping from her chin.

Tim's words floated back to her from the night before, making the tears fall harder.

_We'll be in Windows on the World, in the North Tower. Sarah and I are meeting Mams and Aintin Leslie an' Uncle Pe'er for breakfast. I'll call ye when we ge' there- describe what I see below us. I'll cal you when we get settled at our table. I love you, baby._

And now, to think that he was trapped within the North tower, suffering from smoke inhalation... to think that he was being crushed by the roof as it collapsed on top of him, or had obliterated upon impact with the ground because he'd chosen to take the last few seconds of his life into his own hands-

As the cloud that had been the South tower covered lower Manhattan in darkness, as the North tower continued to burn, Ziva said a prayer- that he and Sarah got out, that they hadn't made it to the restaurant, that they'd missed the subway or gotten caught in traffic- anything that meant they survived.

She choked on a sob as the North tower finally fell, caving in on itself, and was forced to excuse herself, in search of fresh air. As she stepped out into the small serenity garden that had been built three years earlier, the weight of her loss overtook her, and she stumbled, her knees hitting the gravel beneath her feet.

_I love you, baby._

His last words had been ones of love, filled with such promise and hope. He'd been optimistic, excited even, to see his aunt and uncle for something that had been a tradition for the McGees whenever they visited New York- breakfast at Windows on the World. In a city that held such history, so much promise...

_"How could you take him from me? What gives you the right to take them? Any of them? Tim and Sarah... they had their whole lives ahead... Sarah was going to college and Tim... I love him... and you took him from me! What did he do to deserve such a violent death? What did I do to deserve losing him? I know he is not Jewish, and I am not Catholic, I know a mixed marriage would never be allowed, but I love him! And the rabbis... they were willing to make an exception for us! And you took it away! How could you? What kind of God are you?"_

"Ziva-"

She shoved the person foolish enough to follow her outside, to kneel beside her and take her shoulders. But they held on, and after several minutes of fighting them, she recognized Ari's voice. Her arms moved around his neck, and he held her, letting her scream, letting her cry, letting her mourn the man she'd loved and lost. Eventually, he stood, scooping her up; that time, she didn't resist, and allowed him to take her home.

It was hours later that she awoke in bed, her arm reaching out for whom she knew wasn't be there, would never be there again. After a moment, she sat up, unsure as to why she'd awoken or what had roused her from her slumber. And then her cell rang, and she turned, remembering. Slowly, she grabbed, the phone, not bothering to see who was on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

Her breath caught; there was no way, he was dead, crushed within the rubble that had once been the North tower of America's World Trade Center-

"Ziva, are you there?"

She choked on a sob. "T... Tim?"

"Yeah, baby, it's me."

She shook her head, convinced this was someone playing a cruel, hateful joke on her- for all the other officers in Mossad knew of her relationship with the young Irish-American; they knew of how protective Ari was in regards to his last surviving sister, and how the director was determined to see the two young adults married. Though neither Tim nor Ziva ever mentioned marriage, Director  _Da_ vid kept insisting a wedding as imminent, as the rabbis had given their permission- even though both Tim and Ziva refused to focus or even think of marriage at the moment; they were kids, the last thing they needed was to be worrying about a wedding or even an engagement. Besides, only Ari knew the truth.

"Is it...  _really you_?"

"Yeah, it is. I promise you, Ziva, it's me. I... I'm safe, both... both Sarah and I are."

"Oh thank God! When I watched the towers fall, I thought... thank God you are alive! You and Sarah both..." She swallowed, noticing the catch in his voice. "Tim, what... what is wrong?"

Silence filled the other end of the line for a moment, before,

"It's  _Mams an' Aintin_  Leslie _an'_  Uncle  _Pe'er_ , Ziva. They... they're _missin'_... they're somewhere in  _th'_  rubble... _bu'_  they're alive, I _know_  they are...  _Mams_... she _lef'_  a voice mail... they were fine... they were _t'gether_..."

Ziva covered her mouth, struggling ot keep the tears at bay as he broke down. Oh, God, why was she here in Israel? Why wasn't she _there_? He needed her, both he and Sarah did...

"They... they will be found, baby. You just... you have to believe that..."

" _Bu' wha'_  if they aren't, Ziva?  _Wha'_  if-"

"You  _cannot think like that_ , baby. It... it will destroy you... they got out, you need to believe that-"

"Ziva-"

"Baby, trust me, please. They survived."

"Ziva-"

"Say it, Timmy. They survived."

He was silent before,

"They... they survived."

She nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Good. Now say it again."

"But what if-"

"Timmy, say it."

He took a shuddering breath,

"They... they sur... survived."

"Again. Say it again."

He swallowed, pulling Sarah close to him as they sat on the floor of the cafe they'd returned to. "They survived." She could hear Sarah whispering it also, her words muffled by her brother's jacket as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Good. Now... now keep  _thinking_  it. Never... never let it out of your heart. They will be found."

Silence filled the air as Tim pressed a kiss to Sarah's head, pulling her closer. "We were... running late... Sarah slept in... by the time we got here... we got here just before the first plane hit... I hate it when Sarah sleeps in, but this time..." He glanced at his sister, shifting his hold on her, tugging her as close as he could and brushing another kiss to her head. "We got separated when the first tower fell... I thought I'd lost her..."

Ziva glanced up to find Ari standing in the doorway; she was completely unaware that she'd hit the speaker button. After a moment, she reached out a hand; though she was desperate for her boyfriend, she drew comfort from her brother, knowing that Tim was doing the same with Sarah, though he needed her instead. Ari sat beside her on the bed, pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her head.

"It was so black, Ziva... it was night... at ten in the morning... I thought we were going to... to be trapped in that cloud forever..."

"I wish I was there, Tim. I wish I was with you and Sarah now-"

"We do too, Ziva. You... you and Ari both."

Ziva swallowed, hearing how frightened Sarah was; a little girl, lost in the woods, and frightened of the monsters that lurked in the shadows. It broke her heart.

"Everyone in Israel is praying for New York, and for all of you- the survivors and those lost."

"Thank you, Ari." Sarah whispered, burying her face in her brother's shoulder again.

On their end of the line, Ziva and Ari could hear voices, asking Tim and Sarah if they were hurt, if they had family missing, and who they were and what floor they'd been on.

"We have to go." Ziva nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Ziva, I love you. I love you so much, and I'm so glad I get to tell you again."

She choked on a sob. "I am glad too, Tim."

A moment passed, before he breathed,

"I love you, baby."

As she wiped the tears off her cheeks, she tried to keep the worry out of her voice. "I love you too, baby." After Tim and Sarah hung up, Ziva left her line open, curling into Ari's embrace and finally breaking down.


	20. Chapter 20

_Norfolk Naval Base,_

_Virginia,_

_2002_

He twisted the ring on his finger, lost in thought. His birthday had come and gone- two days after the anniversary of his mother's death, on the worst act of terrorism since Pearl Harbor. Sighing, he sat back in his chair, studying the sky outside the window of his small office, his mind going back to the day of the attack. In the hours and days after the towers fell, he and Sarah had soon learned that the voice mail Kathleen had left didn't mean she was buried within the rubble- it had been left hours earlier, as the tower burned around her; a final goodbye to her beloved children. Nothing had been found of Kathleen, Leslie or Peter, and as a result, they were still listed among the missing.

Sarah had since buried herself in her studies at Waverly, and he was now an NCIS agent stationed at Norfolk. After the towers fell, he'd lost his nerve to join the Navy, instead trying for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. After a stint at FLETC, he'd officially become an agent- well, probationary, but still. And though he still spoke to Ziva every day, neither he nor Sarah had been back to Israel since the previous summer.

He ached for her- for her touch, her kiss, her voice, her smell. He called her before bed every night, and no matter how exhausted he was, he also told her he loved her, that he'd be dreaming of her, and that he was counting down the days until he was back in her arms.

His gaze drifted to the photograph on his desk- one of him and Ziva, taken that last summer- the summer before nine-eleven, before his family was tainted once more with death and when he and Ziva were back together under the heat of the Israeli sun- kissing, caressing, sharing secrets and their deepest wishes.

Sarah had taken the photograph at the beach that day- Ziva had snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and as he'd turned his head, she'd rested her forehead against his temple, catching only a profile of her face. Both had their eyes closed; the moment was sweet, a tender, private moment between lovers. Ziva also had a copy on her nightstand- it turned out to be not only his favorite, but hers as well.

He sighed, before reaching for his cell and quickly dialing her number. He shouldn't be calling her- it was evening, and she was most likely in bed, but he needed to hear her voice. It took a moment, but she picked up on the second ring. "'lo?" He chuckled internally. He could just imagine her- hair a beautifully tangled mess, clothing rumpled, eyes blurry from sleep.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" A moment passed before she seemed to perk up at his voice.

"I... do not mind the interruption of my sleep if it is you calling, baby." He chuckled, hearing her try to cover the yawn.

"I'm surprised I woke you- considering the way you snore."

"I do not snore-"

"No, you don't. Snoring is normal. You snore like an emphysematic sailor. We've been over this all ready." He could feel her glare through the phone.

"So why did you call?"

He shrugged, sitting up and grabbing the photo off his desk. "Was just... thinking about you. Needed to hear your voice."

"That is sweet. I am glad you called." She settled back against the pillows of her bed, pulling the sweatshirt she wore closer. "I still have your sweater, but I want you around me instead. When are you coming back?"

He sighed, setting the photo back down on his desk. "I... I don't know, baby. Soon, hopefully. I miss Israel... and you."

She smiled softly, burying her nose in the collar of his sweatshirt and breathing deeply. "I miss you, too." She swallowed. "I want you home, baby." She settled further into the pillows, shifting onto her side, facing what was normally his side of the bed. "I think I miss you most at night. I miss making love to you. Last summer... it was not long enough for my liking."

"Mine neither-"

"Special Agent McGee?" He turned, to find his supervisor in the doorway.

"Can you hold on a moment, Ziva?" He covered the mouthpiece, nodding to the other man. "What is it, sir?"

"You're needed up at HQ, Agent McGee. The MCRT has a case they want your help on. You leave in the morning." He nodded, thanking the older man; once he left, Tim turned back to the call.

"Ziva, can I call you back? Something came up at work, and I need to get started on it." Neither told the other what they did, wanting to keep their jobs out of their relationship; both were determined to leave what happened at the office at the office, and so gave minor excuses when the job interfered. He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line.

"Okay. Promise you will be careful."

"Ziva, I'm always careful."

"I know, it is just... since nine-eleven-"

"I know. Believe me, baby, I do. But I will be fine. I'll call you tonight, fall asleep to your voice, like I always do."

She smiled, curling further into her own pillows. "Talk me to sleep, Tim. Please? Like we do when we are together in bed."

He chuckled, folding his arms on the desk and studying the photograph- the same photograph he knew Ziva was probably looking at. "What do you want me to talk about?"

She sighed, yawning. "Tell me about Sarah. And about Penny, and what she is doing. And what you have been reading. Have you gotten to Rushidie yet? What about Allende? Did you take Sarah to see  _Chicago_  for her birthday, like she wanted? I would love to see  _Chicago_ , I bet the music is beautiful." A soft chuckle met her on the other end, and she smiled.

"Sarah loved it; I took her to the stage door and she got to meet the actors- they were wonderful. She talked for hours about it after we saw it. And Penny's good- she's bouncing around Bali at the moment; she was in India a month ago- she plans on going to Turkey next..." He stopped, when he heard her start to snore on the other end of the line. "Sweet dreams, baby."

"... I love you, Tim..."

He smiled softly, sighing. "I love you too, baby."

When Ziva called that night, he didn't pick up, because he wasn't home.


	21. Chapter 21

_Mossad Headquarters,_

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel_

_2007_

America.

Finally, after all these years, she was going to America.

She was going to see Tim and Sarah again, after all these years... she was going to stand on the roads they walked, see the things they saw every day-

"Zivaleh, are you listening to me?"

Her head snapped up, and Eli raised an eyebrow, watching her nervously twist the ring on her finger. Her father sighed; seeing the reason behind her preoccupation.

Tim, the man she loved, the one she was destined to marry- even though the young couple kept putting off and putting off the inevitable. A marriage was going to take place one day- he and Ambassador McGee would make sure of it. For since the losses of their own spouses, it was imperative their children find the happiness they once possessed. Besides, they had the blessing of _both_  the Irish Catholic church and the rabbis of the Tel Aviv synagogue-

And rabbis didn't bend the rules for just anyone; Tim and Ziva were a special case.

"Sorry,  _Abba_ , what did you say?"

A moment passed, before Eli stood, moving around the perch on the edge of his desk, beside the chair his daughter sat in. He took her hand, brushing his finger over the ring she wore. "There was a time, Zivaleh, when my house was filled to the roof with the laughter of children. You, and Tali... and Ari..." He didn't miss the pained wince at the mention of her brother- it was because Ari had suddenly gone rogue that he was sending her to America in the first place. "And Tim and Sarah McGee..." He sighed. "A time when your mother looked at me with love, not contempt- the way you look when you think of him. I want grandchildren; I want to watch him pull you into his arms at your wedding and dance with you... I want to see the happiness your mother and I shared..."

"But," She stopped, swallowing hard. "It... it has been five years, Papa. What... what if he does not remember me? What if... what if he has... moved on? Found someone else?"

"Do you truly believe that, Zivaleh?"

A moment passed, before she shook her head. "N.. no."

Eli sighed. In the years since his daughter and future-son-in-law had parted ways, he had kept tabs on Tim, making sure he was safe, that he was protected- that was why he had asked Ari to go to America; to find Tim and ensure he was alive and well. But something had gone horribly wrong. Suddenly, an NCIS agent was dead, Ari was missing, having gone off the grid, and Ziva, being his control officer, had no choice but to hunt him down and bring him back to Israel, where Mossad would deal with him. So when Asher ben Simon- Ari's former partner- had given her the dossiers on the NCIS team of the agent Ari had killed, Ziva had broken down for one simple reason-

Tim was one of the agents on that team.

And after all this time, Ziva was going to see him again- the boy she'd fallen in love with as children, now a grown man. She had wept in relief that it was someone else and not the man she loved, lying within autopsy.

"Ziva, your priority is to bring Ari home. Mossad has to deal with him. Once Ari is back on Israeli soil, then you may find Timothy. Are we clear?"

She nodded. Eli pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then got up, returning to his chair. "I have... forgotten the sound of his voice, Papa. And the... taste of his kiss... the feel of his... his body on top of mine... I have forgotten all but his smell, and that... that is fading as quickly as the color of his eyes." When she looked up at him, it was with those brown orbs swimming in unshed tears. "Five years, Papa. It has been five years since I have tasted him... what if he does not recognize me? What will I do then?"

Her father thought a moment, folding his hands on the desk. "You remind him of what you had. Of what you share. He will come back to you, Ziva."

"What if he does not?"

He reached over, patting her hand. "He will. Have faith, my Zivaleh."

After she left her father's office, she drove down to Be'er Sheva; there were a couple people she needed to speak with. The cemetery was cool, the olive trees protecting the stones of loved ones long since buried in the earth. Taking a deep breath, Ziva settled between her mother and sister's stones, fiddling with the ring on her finger.

"I... I have something to tell you both. I am... I am going to America. I am... going to find Ari and bring him home, but I... I am also going to find Tim. We have not spoken in five years,  _Ima_ and I... I am scared. What if he does not remember me? I remember him. I have... thought about him, every moment of every day for the last..." She took a deep breath, quickly wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "He was nearly taken from me on nine-eleven, so... he cannot be taken from me now. God would not be so cruel as to... to turn his heart against me, would he? Even... even when he took you and Tali from me... he would not take Tim away, would he?" She choked on a sob. "I wish you were both here; I wish you could tell me what to do... what to say to him when I see him again... I love him, _Ima_. I think... I think that I have always loved him, and I have... always said it... and he has always..."

Silence surrounded her, the only sound the soft breeze as it blew through the leaves of the olive trees overhead.

"He was my first kiss, my first... dance, my first... my first sexual partner... he knows that I like baklava and... chocolate chips and peanut butter and... that I like to be on top when it comes to sex..." She laughed softly. "He was there when I got my first period, and... when I got my ears pierced a second time... and... when I learned to drive... he knows my entire life and I know his, so... we have to be together, yes? God and the... the universe would not be so cruel as to tear us apart, would they?"

She got no reply.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hellfire45 for reviewing 21.

_NCIS Headquarters,_

_Navy Yard,_

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Two Days Later_

It was about time their worlds collided. Five years had been far too long.

"Hey, baby." He looked up from the darkness of his turned off computer screen, to find her standing before his desk. A flash of confusion sparked in his green eyes, before he got up, going to her.

"Ziva," His arms went around her, pulling her close as he buried his face in his neck. She held him close, burying herself in his chest. His scent enveloped her, and she broke down- years without his voice in her ear, without his mouth on hers, his body around hers- finally caught up with her and she clung to him. Her mouth soon found his and she drank him in, holding him as close to her as she could. "What are you doing here?" She choked on a sob, brushing her thumbs against the apples of his cheeks when he pulled away.

"I... I am here to... stop Ari... but... when I heard an agent had been killed, I... I thought it was you. God, I was so scared it was you."

He shook his head. "No. It was my partner- it was Kate. Ari _killed Kate_..."

It was Ziva's turn to shake her head. No, she couldn't believe it- she  _wouldn't_. Not Ari, not her brother. Ari had always protected them, had always looked out for them- all four of them- from the time they were children. He'd taken Tim and Sarah under his wing when they moved to Israel after their father was transferred to the embassy, had looked on them as siblings, loved them as though they were his own children. There was no way Ari could turn on them like this-

"No, Tim. You... are wrong. You know Ari. You have always known him. He... he looked after us when we were kids... he protected us... he would not do this-"

"Ziva, listen to me." Tim shook her gently, tears clouding his green eyes. "Ari is not the boy we remember. He is not the man he was when we were teenagers. He's  _changed_. We all have."

She shook her head, not ready, not willing to believe it-

"Ah, Ziva, I see you've met Special Agent McGee." The couple turned to see Director Jenny Shepard leading Agent Gibbs into the bullpen. Tim automatically stepped away from Ziva, even though she grabbed his hands, threading their fingers together. "And I see you've met Officer David, Timothy." Ziva glanced at Tim, letting her gaze linger on his.

"We already know each other, Jenny." She replied, moving closer to him. A moment passed, before she tilted her head back, stealing a soft kiss before turning back to the other woman. "Tim and I in a relationship. We have been since we were sixteen. You see, we grew up together- in Israel. Tim is the American Ambassador's son."

Jenny nodded, clearly surprised, and the man with her- whom Ziva knew must be Agent Gibbs- raised his eyebrows. A moment passed, before Jenny quickly recovered, going to Ziva and brushing a kiss to each cheek; Gibbs, meanwhile, beckoned McGee towards him. The young agent willingly went, his hand slipping quickly out of Ziva's, even though the young woman desperately tried to keep her hold on him.

"Yours?" Gibbs asked, glancing at the young woman who'd so boldly slipped her hand into Tim's.

"Ziva  _Da_ vid, Mossad. Yours?"

"Jenny Shepard."

"Who is she-"

"She's ours." Tim's gaze widened. He'd come into Gibbs's team under Director Morrow; when Shepard took his place, well... not many of the agents knew of the new director, for they rarely  _saw_ her- "What is your... Ziva here for?"

"Stop you from whacking Ari." Tim replied, leaning against the partition around what had been Kate's desk. "What's-"

"Same." The younger man's green eyes widened, as the two women finally made their way towards them. Ziva managed to restrain herself, though she desperately wanted to reach for Tim again.

"Special Agent Gibbs- Ziva  _Da_ vid, Mossad."

"Ziva." The young woman held out her hand. "Jenny has told me often of you."

"Really?"

"Ziva and I worked anti-terrorist ops since nine-eleven." Jenny replied, just as Ziva's phone rang. She excused her, grabbing Tim's hand and squeezing as she passed. He followed her movements, catching her gaze as she glanced over her shoulder. It was only when she answered the call that Tim moved away from the partition and returned to his desk, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

She leaned against the window, watching the rain outside.

"Did you get the papers?"

"Yes."

"And you have the envelope?" She started to reply before hesitating. He chuckled. "Do not worry, you will receive that in due time."

"I want to see you."

The voice on the other end of the line was silent for a moment. "Too risky. We'll meet in Paris after the mission is over, the two of us. I promise..." He seemed to think for a moment, before asking, "Did you find him?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Ari... I do not want to lose you too."

"You won't.  _Shalom_ , Zivaleh."

She took a deep breath, not having missed what he had implied.  _The two of us._  As she hung up the phone, she glanced over her shoulder towards Tim's desk. When, exactly, had Ari started doubting her relationship with Tim? He had always liked Tim, had trusted to leave her in his care, and suddenly, now, he was turning his back on the young man that made her so happy-

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and quickly straightened her clothing, before going back to the bullpen, slipping past Agent DiNozzo and Agent Gibbs's desks, straight for Tim's. He looked up when she knelt beside his chair. "Tim, baby?" A moment passed before he tore his gaze away. She sniffled, reaching for him. "I... is... there a place where we can get coffee? I want... I want to talk to you... alone."


	23. Chapter 23

_Silver Spring,_

_Washington, D.C.,_

Gibbs had told them that _no one_ was to leave the building.

That was an _order_.

One that Tim _directly_ ignored.

He shoved her against the hard wood of his bedroom door, his hands moving up to capture hers and holding her arms above his head, the sudden movement jolting them both briefly back to their senses before they became lost in each others' kiss once more.

They had slipped out for coffee- and upon reaching the small cafe across from headquarters, had changed their minds. Ziva had pushed him up against the cafe door, her mouth finding his before he pulled away and grabbed her hand, tugging her back towards NCIS. She'd hesitated, before realizing that he was leading her in the direction of the parking garage-

With the windows of his mustang closed and the heat on high, they'd teased and played in the backseat, stripping down to nothing but their underwear and allowing their body heat to steam the windows. They'd then driven to his apartment building, stealing kisses and touches on the stairs, tugging at clothing and pulling at hair before they even reached his apartment.

Their fingers laced against the door, bodies close together, mouths and minds focused more on each other than any sort of conversation. Finally, slowly, he released her hands, moving down to work on her belt and cargos. As he slid his fingers between the material of her pants and the black lace of her panties, she pushed herself away from the door, reaching for his own belt; he shoved her roughly back against the door, biting down firmly on her lower lip, making it clear who was currently running the show at the moment. One hand moved to her waist to tug her closer as the other slipped between her thighs, finding the sensitive bud between her legs.

She moaned softly, tilting her head back and allowing him to work on her neck. Her hands moved over his chest, working quickly on the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. Just as her hands moved lower to caress him, he scooped her up, his arms supporting her now only-underwear clad bottom as her pants had pooled at her feet, allowing her to step out of them. She slid her legs around his waist, her arms going around his neck as their mouths met once more in deep kisses.

The jolt of the mattress hitting her back startled her, and she momentarily pulled away, to find herself among the blankets and pillows of his bed. She took a deep breath; it smelled of him, the familiar, welcome scent hitting each of her senses like the waves of the Mediterranean crashing onto the sands of Gordon beach. She reached for him, seeing the hunger in his eyes reflecting her own, and tangled a hand in his hair as he came down to meet her. Every nook and cranny of his mouth was familiar to her, as familiar as the streets of Tel Aviv or the ruins of Be'er Sheva- no matter the years that passed between them, his body was as familiar to her as her own.

He slid one hand down her side, slipping beneath her knee and tugging her hips up. She pushed him away, breathing heavily. "You are still dressed... how is that fair?" He chuckled, returning his mouth to hers.

"Because I'm _th'_ one _runnin' th'_ show, Ziva."

She narrowed her eyes briefly, before hooking her leg around his waist and rolling them over. "You have forgotten, Tim." She whispered, shimmying down until his hips were in front of her. She deftly undid the buckle of his belt before undoing the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper down. Once she'd pushed his jeans down, she crawled back towards him, her mouth inches from his. "I like to be on _top_."

Their mouths met in a quick, teasing kiss before she sat up and moved to return to her earlier position- until Tim tugged the tan over shirt she wore from her body and tossed it aside, his quick fingers making easy work of ridding her also of her white tank. But as he reached for her headscarf, she moved out of his grasp, towards his boxers. Her small fingers brushed along the hem before one finger slid between them and his waist, tugging them down, a grin tugging at her features.

Oh yes, after five years, they were both going to enjoy this.

She trailed her fingers along the sensitive seam of his sac, brushing lightly against his testicles before moving to caress the skin of his penis. Her lips soon replaced her hands. At one time, Tim never would have allowed this- though he'd always done it to her, he'd never allowed her to return the favor, something Ziva had always grumbled over. They were lovers, partners, best friends, the old _'anything you can do, I can do better'_ was constantly in the back of her mind- especially when it came to sex. Neither she nor Tim were innocent- from that afternoon in the weapons carrier, their sexual relationship had been defined by teasing, playing, even the occasional roughness- and lots and lots of Honey Dust.

Ziva, after all, found the taste of Honey Dust to be exceedingly erotic- and the taste of Tim's skin beneath the powder, slick with sweat and tasting lightly of sex- just about put her through the roof on more than one night; especially when Tim came back to spend summer break in Tel Aviv with her. It was too bad she hadn't thought to bring any with her.

As she proceeded to trail kisses down his erect penis, Tim reached for her, to stop her, but she grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers instead. She brushed a soft kiss to the head, feeling him dig his nails into her hand, and she grinned. A soft giggle escaped her lips when she returned her mouth to his, for once having gained the upper hand-

Her back soon pressed into the mattress as he flipped them over, tugging the black lace panties down her legs and tossing them aside. "You aren't the only one that knows how to play dirty in bed, Ziva." He growled, kissing her firmly before trailing kisses down her body. His tongue soon found the moist, warm area between her legs; she tangled her hands in the covers of his bed, a moan escaping her throat. As their lips met once more, she wrapped her arms around him, tangling her fingers in his hair. Over the course of the night, they shared the control, neither caring about anything now that they were back together. Ari, Kate's death, their five-year silence... it was all cast aside as they screamed each others' names, finding that familiar comfort in the others' embrace, in their kiss.

Finally, they lay in the afterglow, catching their breath; Ziva nestled snugly and contentedly around him, her head on his chest, the exhaustion and excitement having finally caught up with her. Tim held her close, his gaze moved to the window, watching the rain as it beat down on the city that had become his home, the woman he loved back in his arms after five long years. He swallowed thickly, glancing down at her. She had yet to start snoring, and Tim relished the silence, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes before kissing her head firmly. She nuzzled into his chest, brushing a kiss to his skin in her sleep, whispering those three little words that made his heart skip a beat.

"I love you, too, baby."

As his gaze returned to the window, that brilliant mind of his began to work, trying to find the best way to keep this... betrayal... from Gibbs. 


	24. Chapter 24

NCIS Headquarters,

The Navy Yard,

"Where the hell is McGee?"

Both Tony and Abby- who'd come up from her lab after the attempt on her life- jumped. "Um... maybe he... maybe he went to get coffee, Gibbs?" Abby suggested, shrinking in fear when the Team Leader turned smoldering blue eyes her way.

Oh yeah, he was pissed, no other way around it.

Without a word, Gibbs grabbed his phone and dialed Tim's number again; it once more went straight to voice mail. "When I said no one was to leave the building, that included you, Agent McGee!"

"Timmy, if you could just... you know, give... give us a call when you... we're all..." Gibbs hit the button, ending the call. "really... worried about you." Abby glanced at Tony, who shrugged, and then glanced around.

"Hey, Boss, you know who else is missing?"

"Who?" He jumped when Gibbs stormed towards him, pushing his chair back to avoid getting burned.

"Um... that... that Mossad officer..."

"Who?" But Tony ignored Abby; he tried his hardest to shrink in on himself.

"So... that means they're together, right, Boss? Officer David did say that they had... had grown up together... that they... were in a relationship... so... maybe they're together? And if they're together, then-"

"Tony, don't say that!" He turned to Abby, who was sitting on the edge of Tim's desk. "Timmy would never turn traitor, he loves NCIS!"

"No, Abby, I'm not saying-" But the pair looked up when the elevator doors opened and the subject in question came into the bullpen, Officer David following behind, holding tight to his hand. He stopped however, when he saw Gibbs. The older man stalked towards Tim, reaching out and slamming him hard on the back of the head.

"Where the hell have you been, McGee?" But Tim stayed quiet, moving away from the older man and heading to his desk. He took a seat, never taking his gaze from his Team Leader; in the end, Gibbs broke first, turning to Ziva, who moved to follow the young agent, only to have Gibbs step in front of her. The older agent studied her for a moment, as she shifted her things to her other shoulder. "Miss David, tell me, whose balls get cut off if it's proven that Ari isn't a Mossad mole but a terrorist?"

He didn't miss the glance she threw Tim's way, for the couple had discussed- no, argued- at length about it on the drive back to the Navy Yard. She sighed, pushing past Gibbs and going to Tim's desk, dropping her things at his feet. Tony, Abby and Gibbs watched as she perched on the edge, facing the young agent. Slowly, she removed the tie from her hair, the wild dark curls cascading down her back once she'd freed them, the white tank she wore rumpled and pushed up from its visit to the floor of Tim's bedroom, exposing a thin slice of her stomach and side. Her gaze locked on Tim's and she reached out for him, taking his hand in hers, playing with the ring he wore.

"Mine, I suppose, since I am Ari's control officer."

Gibbs started. "Mossad promotes officers young, then?"

Ziva turned to him. "They have to." She breathed. "The good ones-"

"Are dead at your age." Tim finished, sitting back in his chair. The former Marine watched the couple, noticing the attachment they seemed to have to each other. Clearly, their childhoods had been spent deep in each others' company... doing what, Gibbs didn't know. What was there for a child to do in Israel, after all?

"How did you know I'd located Ari's terrorist cell?" Ziva looked up from her study of Tim's fingers.

"Easy. A fix on the GPS of your encrypted cellphone. Ari wanted the location so you and..." She glanced at Tim. "Your team would stop the missile instead of him. It would have blown his cover-"

"Only an NSA satellite can GPS an encrypted phone, Miss David." She hopped off Tim's desk, grabbing her things. "Ari didn't know that."

Ziva snorted softly, shaking her head as she turned to Tim. The pair shared a smile none of the others could read; something from long ago, that had taken place within the desert sands of their childhood homes, deep within the dust and heat of Israel. "You give Ari less credit than he gives you, Gibbs." Tim replied, steepling his fingers.

"Yes, who hung up first? You or him?" The older man narrowed his eyes; he didn't particularly like the game the two were playing, nor did he like the fact that Tim had apparently chosen Ziva's side over his team's. None of them heard the heels clicking on the stairs, but all looked up as Jenny soon came into the bullpen, having been watching from the catwalk.

"Is everything all right, Agent Gibbs?"

But the older man ignored her, turning back to Ziva as he made his way towards her. He grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him. "Hey!" She attempted to wrench her arm away, but Gibbs held firm; he didn't even back down when Tim stood, moving to step between his boss and his girlfriend. Abby scurried back to her lab, not wanting to see Gibbs get rough with a woman- even one she didn't know- and Tony had to pick his jaw up from the floor. He'd seen Gibbs angry, but the older man had never taken it out on someone like this before.

"You arrange a meet, Officer David, and tell Ari that I want to hear it from him."

Having regained her composure, Ziva lifted her chin, glancing at Tim out of the corner of her eye. "I am telling you, Ari is a Mossad operative undercover in Hamas. He has not turned on us or you!" She took a deep breath, glancing at Tim before turning back to Gibbs. "And he did not kill Special Agent Todd."

"Gibbs."

"What?" Jenny moved towards him, gently releasing Ziva from his grip when she got close enough.

"Even if you're right, we need proof."

"That is all we ask," Ziva glanced at Tim, moving towards where he leaned against the filing cabinet. "Do not kill the wrong man."

Gibbs chuckled dryly. "Like Mossad did in Norway?"

The younger woman lost her temper, slamming her hands down on Tim's desk as she leaned towards the older agent. "That mistake cost us dearly!"

"Not as dearly as the Palestinian waiter you killed!"

"Ziva, I want you to reassure your deputy director that even though Ari Haswari's a suspect, no action will be taken until we have evidentiary proof." She nodded, giving Jenny a grateful smile, even as Gibbs began to protest. "Proof before action, Agent Gibbs."


	25. Chapter 25

"She's Metsada, isn't she?"

"The Mossad code name for that division is Komemiute, Jethro." The two shared a look; they stood on the catwalk, after having escorted the body of a sniper into autopsy, and now stood watching Tim and Ziva sitting together at his desk, talking softly over pizza and coffee. He said something that made her laugh, and she leaned over, brushing a soft kiss to his mouth.

"Whatever the hell they named it specializes in assassinations-"

"Weren't you a sniper, Gibbs?"

"You listen to me, Jen, if I have to go through Ziva to get to Ari, I will."

"You would have to go through Agent McGee, too, Jethro." He turned back to the young agent he'd- secretly- grown fond of having on his team. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the young man-

"Then I will."

"Ziva knows that, and I think, to an extent, Tim does to."

He sighed. "You really do like her, don't you?"

"She's damn good, Jethro. And I owe her. She saved my life in Cairo two years ago." Her gaze moved back to the pair; the cheese on Ziva's slice hadn't separated from the bread when she bit into it, and it strung out like cello strings- until Tim reached over and plucked at it, breaking them. With the news that Kate's funeral would be the following day, the mood was somber and still in the bullpen- or, at least, for Tony it was. Tim was too preoccupied with his childhood love to notice the older agent's mood- until Tony snapped at him and stormed off to Abby's lab. Jenny sighed, moving away from Gibbs, heading for the stairs. "Ziva?"

The pair turned as Jenny came down the stairs, Gibbs behind her. The back elevator dinged, and Tony stepped out, Abby in tow. "Yes, Jenny?" Everyone noticed as the young woman instantly set her slice down on the paper plate.

"Deputy Director David is on teleconference for you." Tim's ears perked up.

"He is?" Everyone turned to him. "Director, may I?"

"If it's all right with Ziva."

The young woman glanced at him, before leaning close. "He asked about you before I left. How about we let him know that everything is okay between us?" At Tim's slow grin, Ziva kissed him, hopping off the desk and grabbing her things, taking his hand and tugging him from his chair.

Seeing this as his opportunity, Tony jogged at the pair, suddenly curious at to who the director was and his obvious relationship with McGee. "Director David? Wouldn't be... Daddy, would it?" He glanced at Tim. "Or... Daddy-in-law for you, McGeek?" Tim glared at him.

"I'll have you know, Tony, that David is a common Israeli name."

"Just as McGee is a common Irish name." Ziva added, tugging on his hand. Tony stopped; he, Abby, Gibbs and Jenny watched in silence as the pair sprinted up the stairs towards MTAC, soon disappearing behind the heavy door.

"What did Israel do, lose a nuke?" Gibbs sighed, watching as his agent disappeared with the Mossad officer.

"According the Director David, Israel doesn't have nukes. They have a power plant in Dimona, and a small amount of plutonium is missing."

"Wait, Hamas is making a bomb?"

"Hamas has core, DiNozzo, but no detonator. Apparently, Ari was supposed to buy the kryton trigger and deliver it to the cell with the plutonium-"

"And right as he does, Mossad grabs him."

"But Ari's behind schedule, so naturally, Mossad's getting nervous. Which is why Director David is right this instant ordering Ziva to cooperate."

"He her daddy? And... where does McGee fit into all this, Boss?"

Gibbs sighed. "I have no idea, DiNozzo, I didn't ask."

Once the door to MTAC closed behind them, Ziva led Tim to the screen, where her father was waiting. She took a deep breath, squeezing his hand. "Shalom, Abba."

Eli looked up, relieved to finally see his daughter. "Ah, Zivaleh, I-" But he stopped, when Tim stepped up beside her. "Ah, I see you have found Timothy." She nodded. "You have certainly grown up since I last laid eyes upon you, Tim."

The young agent blushed. "Shalom, Director. It's good to see you again."

"I see you two have finally returned to each other, after a rather... long separation." The couple shared a glance.

"That would be my fault, Director. I..." Tim stopped, glancing at Ziva. "I had a little trouble... deciding what I wanted in my life. Unfortunately, Ziva was one of the things that fell to the wayside as I tried to figure it out." He pulled her close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "But not anymore. She's back in my arms and that's all that matters at the moment."

Eli watched with a soft smile as the couple shared a soft kiss, momentarily becoming lost in each others' gaze. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Then perhaps we can discuss the plans for your marriage at a later date." The couple groaned softly on the other end of the conference. "But for now, there are more pressing matters at hand." He sat back, folding his hands before him. "You need to bring him in, Ziva. Talk to him; he has never resisted you- either of you."

Ziva glanced at Tim, knowing her father was right. When it came to her and Tim, Ari had always held a soft spot for the pair, going out of his way to keep a close eye on them and protect them, even if it inconvenienced him in some way. He had always looked after them both, from the moment they met Tim- which made her brother's words sting all the more. "So... you would like me to bring Tim along, Abba?"

"If he agrees to it, yes. Ari must be dealt with, and Ziva, you must cooperate with NCIS. They will not hand Ari over easily."

"We won't hand him over at all if Gibbs gets his hands on him." Tim whispered, meeting Eli's gaze.


	26. Chapter 26

Alexandria,

Virginia,

Midnight

"I wish I had not had to shoot Caitlin, Gibbs. But I did it to cause you pain."

"I piss you off that much?"

Ari chuckled. "Not you. My father. You... sadly, have the misfortune of reminding me of the bastard."

"He didn't marry your mother."

"That is what makes me a bastard, not him." He swallowed. "But he had the decency to give my sisters a proper name. And even with that name, he turned one into an assassin, and watched the other die a slow death at sixteen. As for me, well, from the moment of my birth, he groomed me to be one thing- his mole in Hamas." Gently, he brushed his fingers against the barrel of Gibbs's gun. "He sent me to Edinburgh to become a doctor, so that I could work in the Gaza camps alongside my mother. And when she died, I had no trouble at all joining the Iz Adin al-kassam."

"You don't really believe he had your mother killed?"

"Perhaps not. It was a retaliatory Iraeli strike- happened on a day when I was in Tel Aviv visiting him and my sisters and the Ambassador's family."

Gibbs straightened. "The Ambassador?"

"Yes. The Ambassador and his wife, their two children. Beautiful children, have been from the moment we met them. My younger sister fell in love with their son."

It was then, that the wheels began to turn, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. He swallowed. "Their son?"

"They had loved each other since they were children- even going so far as to get married in a burned out synagogue in Be'er Sheva. 'Playing House' they called it. They do not realize that such innocent actions have very real consequences."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, confused. "How so?"

But Ari waved it away. "Unfortunately, my father realized that he already had his precious mole in Hamas- but he did not- and still does not- realize how much I truly hate him. For what he put me through, Rivka, my sisters... the McGees... I wish I could see his face when he realizes that he created not a mole, but a monster, eager to strike at the heart of Mossad and Israel."

"I almost for sorry for you."

"And I for you."

They moved, changing positions in silence.

"What did he do the McGees?"

Ari chuckled dryly. "He has been eager for my sister to marry the Ambassador's son for years- and I agree, they make a good match. He tames her, where she releases him. They are yin and yang complete, the sun and the moon combined and the two halves of a soul in desperate need of each other. Heaven and Hell joined together by the earth, and were anyone to separate them, they would die apart. I have spent my childhood looking out for them, keeping them together, even when they fought against it. Their souls were tied together long before either were born- and I will go to my grave, to ensure they stay together. But what my father does not realize is that my sister and your agent have already been bound before God."

"How do you know?"

"They were children, Gibbs. Playing a simple game, in an old synagogue. They did not know at the time what they were doing, or the significance of their actions, but both Rabbi Weisel and I did. They are tied together for all eternity, and nothing will keep them apart."

"They would never believe a story like that."

"They will once they see what has been hidden from them for years. And once they do, their lives can begin together, but unfortunately, someone else's must end." Ari raised the rifle.

"I've killed enough men in my life, Ari. It's gonna be just as sweet watchin' you die."

"Sorry to spoil your-"

A single bullet entered and exited his skull, sending him to the cold cement of Gibbs's basement. Once it was clear, Gibbs glanced behind him at the footsteps on the stair and then got up, removing the rifle from the man's grasp. They cocked their gun, stopping at the older man's side, tears glistening in her eyes as she studied her brother's body. Gibbs turned to her, as another set of footsteps came down the stairs, gun at the ready. He turned, to find McGee quickly putting his weapon away. "His father is the deputy director of Mossad?"

Ziva nodded, swallowing thickly. It was Tim that answered for her as she reached behind her. "Yes."

"Not David."

"Yes." She sniffled, feeling Tim's hands caress her shoulders. "He... he is my... half-brother. Tali... was my sister... she... died at sixteen." She quickly wiped at her nose, and Tim gently rubbed her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her head.

"The Ambassador's son?" Gibbs's blue eyes flicked to his agent, not willing to believe it. Tim nodded, choking on his own tears. Ari had been a brother to him, a protector... it was Ziva that answered this time.

"Yes."

"Not McGee."

"Yes. John McGee is the... Ambassador to Israel and... my father." Tim whispered, sliding an arm around Ziva's shoulders and pulling her closer. "Sarah... Sarah is my little sister."

He considered bringing up the 'marriage' Ari talked about, but then thought better of it- the pair were in shock enough as it was, the last thing they needed was more heaped on them. He sighed, going to Ziva and gently squeezing her hand, thanking her silently for avenging- "Kate's funeral is in the morning, Tim."

The younger agent turned to him as he headed up the stairs. "Tell them I'm sorry, Gibbs. But I'm going with Ziva."

"McGee-"

"Tim has been there for me every time I have laid a family member to rest, Agent Gibbs. He knew... he knew Ari before... please. I need him. He is all I have left of my brother- the memories we share of who Ari truly was." A moment passed, before the man sighed, nodding. And then, he continued up the stairs, leaving them alone.

Once the door closed behind him, Ziva moved out of Tim's embrace, dropping onto a bench by her brother's body. A soft Hebrew prayer began to fall from her lips- a prayer that soon ended when she broke down. Tim joined her, taking a seat on the bench and pulling her into his arms. He rocked her softly back and forth as she clung to him, shoulders shaking violently, her sobs echoing off the cement and tearing at his heart. As he held her, let her mourn, Tim found himself softly finishing Ziva's prayer.


	27. Chapter 27

Tel Aviv,

Israel,

Two Days Later

It couldn't be definitively proven that Tim fired the shot that killed Ari; nor could it be definitively proven that Ziva had fired the shot that killed him.

On the report, Gibbs was the culprit, and both the young agent and the Mossad officer stuck to that story.

So while Gibbs's team was burying their fallen colleague in Indiana, Ziva was escorting her brother's body back to Israel; of course, as was custom, Sarah and Tim accompanied her. She stood between the siblings, watching as the Israeli flag was spread over Ari's coffin- despite his actions, he was still a son of Israel, and still deserved respect. As the coffin was loaded into the hearse, Officer Hadar made his way towards her, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks.

"Ziva, it is good to see you again."

"My return has nothing to do with you, Hadar." She replied, slipping her hands into Tim and Sarah's.

Hadar noticed, his gaze flicking first to Tim and then to his sister. "Ah, Ziva, always full of fire." He turned, catching Tim's gaze. "Ambassador McGee's children. It has been a long time." He shook Tim's hand and pressed a kiss to Sarah's cheek. "Barukh shuvkha habayta." The siblings had grown up around Hadar- they knew his children as well as they knew the David siblings, had counted the Hadar kids among their closest friends.

"You father is expecting you, Ziva. As is the Ambassador, for both of you. Come, they are waiting at the embassy."

Ziva drove; one glance at the driver and he was scrambling out of the seat so fast he didn't blink. The power Ziva held within Mossad- just like the power Tim and Sarah held due to their father's position- was great, enough to make even the most hardened criminal turn tail and run. For in Israel, both the McGee and David children held power- Ziva in Mossad, and Sarah and her brother at the Embassy, because unlike most children of diplomats; Tim and his sister had watched, studied, and honed the power they held to a fine point.

Tim led the way through the embassy; anyone and everyone made a quick u-turn and hurried in the direction they'd come when they laid eyes on the siblings. As the trio finally reached Ambassador McGee's office, Ziva grabbed his hand, squeezing. The knock was sharp, brisk, the acceptance of entry a sharp return, and after a moment, Tim pushed the door open, leading the girls into the room. The door shut softly behind them, and they stood at attention, waiting for acknowledgement.

"Timothy, Sarah." John McGee stood, going to his kids. "No kiss for your father?" Tim glanced at his sister, before pressing a soft kiss to his father's cheek; Sarah followed suite, stepping back as their father studied them. "My God, you have both grown up so-" He furrowed brow at Sarah. "When did you start wearing so much makeup, Sarit?" He asked, using the soft Hebrew term of endearment for his daughter.

Tim snorted, struggling to control his laughter behind his hand. Sarah narrowed her eyes, reaching around Ziva to swat at her brother. John chuckled softly at his children; no matter how old they got, they would still go after each other like a couple of kittens fighting over a ball of yarn. He then turned to Ziva, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Ah, Ziva. Welcome home, dear."

Once pleasantries were exchanged, the three settled on the sofa in Ambassador McGee's office; Ziva nestled into Tim's side, holding tight to both his and Sarah's hands. "If only the circumstances were better." Eli said, watching his- now- only remaining child. Over coffee and tea, they discussed the circumstances of Ari's death- both Tim and Ziva gave what they had rehearsed, sticking to the report Mossad now held within its possession. It was only after that Eli and John dared to bring up what they had been pushing for for years.

"Now, as for the manner of your marriage-"

Tim set his cup roughly down on the table. "Oh, Da, not now! We bury Ari tomorrow!"

"I am well aware of that, Timothy. But Ari's life has ended- sadly at the hands of your boss." It was clear exactly what John McGee thought of Agent Gibbs. "But we cannot dwell on the past and what it may have once held. We must look to the future-"

"The future is a long way off, Papa." His son ground out.

"Tim-" Ziva reached over, taking his hand in hers and squeezing gently. He sighed, pulling her close, brushing a kiss to her temple.

"Be that as it may, Timothy, it would be best if we discussed when your marriage should take place." Tim sighed, removing his hand from Ziva's and resting his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands momentarily before folding them.

"We are too young, Da."

"You are both nearly thirty, Tim. Neither you or Ziva are getting any younger, and both Eli and I would like-"

"Grandchildren, we know! But please, Da, let us bury Ari before we begin discussing plans for a future! He is not even in the earth and already, you are deciding when we will be dancing upon his grave!"

Ziva reached out for him as he'd stood and begun to pace. "Tim, please, do not do this-"

"I love Ziva, I have always loved Ziva, but we just brought her brother home! Don't you think we deserve time to mourn Ari? Just as we deserved time to mourn Mams and Rivka and Tali?" And then, without another word, he excused himself, leaving the girls sitting on the sofa, and their fathers stunned into silence.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A note on Tim's smoking:
> 
> Our dad is a "pack a year" smoker- meaning he doesn't smoke all that often, literally only a pack a year, and only when things get really stressful. He never became addicted to it, and it never caused him problems, all he needs is that one pack a year and he's good. So I kind of imagine Tim being a pack a year smoker, mainly because my father has the same temperament Tim seems to have.

"Did you have to lose your temper like that, Tim?"

He ignored her, quickly lighting the cigarette and taking a drag on it. She sighed, moving to join him.

"When did you start smoking?"

His gaze slid towards her, before returning to the streets of Tel Aviv laid out before them. "The week after Mams died... couldn't get the smell of the smoke and jet fuel out of my head-"

"So you decided to add nicotine to it as well? That is not very smart, Tim." She hopped onto the ledge he leaned against, blocking his view briefly. He shrugged, taking another drag. Ziva watched him, before reaching out and snapping it out of his hand.

"Hey-"

But all she did was take a long drag from the cig herself and hand it back, letting the smoke escape her lips like angels' wings. Never before had she considered smoking- but then again, never had she considered Tim a smoker-

"I don't smoke that often, Ziva. One pack a year does it for me, usually when things pile so much I can't get a handle on them," He shrugged. "I haven't let it turn into a nasty habit like some people, and I'm perfectly fine to work field." She nodded, taking it from his hand and taking another drag.

"And has Sarah... picked up on your... nasty habit as you call it?" He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Sarah's too chicken to try smoking."

"But when you were-"

"Sarah preferred to drink as a teen as opposed to smoke or... even do drugs. I was the one that played with the coke and the heroin and-" He stopped. "And all Sarah and I did was give Mams a bad time..." He swallowed. "I never realized... she never gave up on us..."

"She loved you both too much to turn her back on either of you." Ziva told him, reaching out and laying a hand over his. "Besides, you two turned out wonderfully despite your... decade of rebellion?" She raised an eyebrow. He glared at her, taking the cigarette back and finishing it, before snuffing it out. He pulled another one out, offering it to her, but she shook her head, grabbing the lighter and playing with it instead, watching as he slipped it between his lips and reached for the small light. She pushed his hand away, flicking it open and igniting the flame, watching in silence as he bent down, cupping a hand around the flame and the cigarette as he lit it.

"It was three years, and you and Tali did more to reign Sarah and I in than Mams ever thought of doing." He replied, removing the cigarette and exhaling. Ziva saw this as her chance to take it, and he watched her drag quickly from it, noticing how it seemed to calm her worry. He sighed, reaching out and slipping a hand between her thighs, tugging her towards him. He rested his head against her thighs, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I just... I can't believe Ari's gone. It doesn't seem real."

She sighed, reaching down and tangling her fingers in his hair. "I know baby, believe me, I know."

A moment passed before he pulled away, meeting her gaze. "Ziva-" But her mouth was on his before he could finish. The cigarette tumbled from her fingers, landing on the concrete at his feet, and she slid her arms around his neck, allowing him to pull her closer. When the kiss broke, she nestled her face into the crook of his neck, giving him time to calm.

By the time they returned to Ambassador McGee's office, Tim had calmed down considerably-

"Tim, can we talk? Alone?" The young agent glanced at Ziva and Sarah, before nodding, a sigh escaping his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to Ziva's lips before following his father out of the office. The pair strolled through the embassy in silence, not noticing the aides and other workers making quick work of changing their routes to avoid the ambassador and his son; it was common knowledge the power John McGee held- and even more common the knowledge of the power his children held. Though Tim and Sarah had never abused the power they were taught, it was whispered among the aides the things the McGee children could do, the careers they could ruin if they so chose. It was their word that the Ambassador would believe, after all.

John led his son to the cafe on the grounds, and then took him out to the garden out back, the one that was on a built in balcony and looked out over Tel Aviv; the same balcony Tim and Ziva had been on an hour later. "You've grown up quite a bit in these last few years, Timothy." John watched his son lean against the ledge, his hands wrapped around the warm coffee cup. His son shrugged. "Your mother would be proud."

"You think?" He glanced at his father, and John saw the worry filling his son's gaze.

"Yes. I do." A moment passed, before John reached up, caressing his son's cheek. "God, you have your mother's eyes." Tim lowered his gaze briefly, struggling to keep the tears pricking his eyes at bay. "Kathleen was thrilled when your eyes turned after you were born. I'd never seen her fall into something as easily as she did motherhood."

Silence feel between them, and Tim returned his gaze to the cup in his hands. "It's... it's not that I don't love Ziva, Da, I do, I just... I'm not ready to marry her. And she's not ready. And... the last thing we need is you and Director David pushing us into something we aren't ready for. Believe me, Da, I love her, but... I only just got her back after five years... and we... neither one of us are ready for that kind of... step."

"Tim, Eli and I only want what's best for you-"

"And Ziva and I understand that, Da, but please, give us time to get used to being back together." He swallowed. "We spent nearly five years apart- and that was my fault, I admit that-"He took a deep breath. "But Ziva just lost her last remaining sibling... she deserves a proper Shiva... we all do." It was then that Tim met his father's gaze, tears in his own. "Ari wasn't just Ziva's brother, he was mine and Sarah's too. He was as much a part of our family as he was the David's. Please, Da."

John sighed, reaching up to caress his son's cheek, catching the tears that fell. "Oh, Tim." A moment passed, before he nodded. "You're right; this is a time for mourning. It's a time to remember Ari as he was, and tell him goodbye. As a family." He pulled his son into his arms, holding the young man close as Tim finally allowed the pain of losing the man he'd looked on as a brother through.


	29. Chapter 29

The funeral was small, quiet, only family and close friends who had watched Ari grow up. Ziva sat beside her father, holding tight to his hand, her eyes red and her nose raw. She had spent the night before on the sofa in her apartment, curled in Tim's arms, sobbing, screaming, crying, blaming herself for her brother's death-

Even though Gibbs had told them there was no real proof that it was Ziva's bullet that had pierced Ari's skull; for all anyone knew, it could very well have been Tim's.

Not that such a trivial thing like a bullet mattered.

Because either way, Ziva was punishing herself for the loss of her brother.

By now, Tim and Sarah were accustomed to Shiva- for they'd buried both Rivka and Tali, experienced the grief of losing their own mother, and both found comfort in the Jewish rituals that ruled the Israeli religion. And by the time the seven-day week of mourning came and went, the trio had grown closer, finding comfort in each other, and their childhood memories.

So it was on the tenth day, when Sarah returned to Waverly, that Ziva awoke sprawled out on Tim's chest in the bedroom of her apartment. They hadn't discussed his returning to the States, nor had they discussed what she would do now that she was back in Israel. He sighed, his green eyes opening, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep away. "What time is it?"

Ziva folded her arms on Tim's chest, resting her chin atop them. "Nearly ten."

"We slept in-" He replied, a yawn tacking itself to the end of his words as he stretched. She pushed herself up, moving close to catch his mouth in a kiss. Shiva prohibited sexual relations, but now that the mourning period was over- "Boker Tov."

She smiled softly at him as his hands moved down to rest on her waist as she settled against his body. He'd shifted, leaning back against the headboard. "Every morning is good when I wake in your arms, Tim." She whispered, kissing him softly before resting her head against his shoulder. "So what happens now?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, stroking her back. She looked up at him.

"You will go back to the States, yes?" He sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't know. I can't leave you-"

"But you will. You have a career, at NCIS. And I have a career at Mossad." She sniffled, resting her head against his shoulder again. Without a word, he got up, leaving Ziva among the covers of her bed. As he got dressed, she sat up, brushing her curls out of her face. "I love you, Tim." She sniffled. "I love you so much and... I do not want to be apart. I... I do not want to go another five years without you in my arms, in my bed... in my body." He turned, going back to her. His mouth found hers, and he drank her in, pulling her close.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Come back with me, Ziva."

Her brow furrowed, her dark eyes opening slowly, filled with confusion. "Where?"

He chuckled softly. "To America, silly."

"Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Of course I'm serious, baby. I love you." He stumbled back as she threw her arms around his neck, a soft squeal escaping her throat.

They arrived at Mossad Headquarters an hour later, excitedly explaining what they wanted to do to their fathers- for Tim had called the Embassy and asked his father to meet him and Ziva at Mossad. Both men had sat and listened quietly as their children explained their plan, seeing the excitement in their eyes. "Ziva would be a liaison officer at NCIS. She would be attached to Gibbs's team- meaning I could keep an eye on her for you, Director David." Eli raised an eyebrow at the mention of Tim keeping an eye on his daughter, knowing full well it would be the other way around. "And she could either... get an apartment in D.C. if she wished, or... move in with me- I have plenty of space, and it would... be nice to someone else in the apartment," He glanced at her, a grin on his lips. "And..." He stopped, blushing.

"And?" John pressed, intrigued by his son's idea.

Ziva curled into Tim's side, wrapping an arm around his waist, her free hand reaching for his. The rings they wore clicked together softly, and she nudged him gently in the ribs. "Tell them." He met her gaze, leaning down to kiss her sweetly on the lips. "Tim! Tell them."

He took a deep breath, turning back to Eli and John. "And we could... consider... discuss... the possibility of... marriage..."

Their fathers shared a glance between them, leaving the young couple waiting in silent agony. John cocked his head to the side. "So it would be a test. A trial run, before the wedding."

Ziva and Tim shared a glance. "No wedding, Da, not yet. Just... just a relationship." Ziva could see the fear in his eye at the mention of a wedding, and she brought his hand to her lips. They would talk eventually about why Tim was clearly frightened of being tied down, but for now-

"Please say yes, Abba. I want to be with Tim," She stopped, looking up at him. "I love him, and I... I cannot go another day without him in my arms... five years nearly killed me... please say yes." She turned to John. "Ambassador McGee? Please, let us try. Let me go, please."

John glanced at Eli before turning back to them. "And you'll... consider the wedding?" A moment passed as they hesitated, before nodding. He turned to Eli, shrugging his shoulders. "I see no problem with their plan, do you, Eli? And they have agreed to consider a wedding-"

Eli cut him off, turning his gaze to his daughter. "Very well, Zivaleh. You may return to the States with Timothy." He chuckled as his daughter let out an excited squeal and rushed to him, pressing a kiss to first his cheek and then John's before rushing back to Tim and throwing her arms around his neck.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This doesn't really follow any specific episodes/cases.

NCIS Headquarters

The Navy Yard

Washington, D.C.,

Two Days Later

Tensions were high when Tim stepped out of the elevator and into the bullpen after returning from Israel three days later, Ziva in tow, holding tight to his hand. They stood between the elevator and the entrance to the bullpen, talking softly, heads close together, hands linked. A moment passed, before Ziva rose onto her toes, stealing a soft, quick kiss. She nudged her nose against Tim's giggling softly as he pulled her closer, whispering something meant for her ears only. She nodded, pressing herself against him, a grin on her lips as she tilted her head back.

From his desk, Tony watched with narrowed eyes as Tim shared another soft kiss with the Mossad officer. "It's about time you returned, McTraitor."

The pair broke apart, turning as Tony stood, going to the file cabinet beside his desk. "Excuse me?" They made their way into the bullpen, Tim going to his desk, Ziva dropping her things behind Kate's desk and taking a seat in the chair. Tony sauntered over to the younger agent.

"What the hell were you doing, missing Kate's funeral, McGee? Where the hell did you go?" Tim took a sip of his coffee before setting it on his desk.

"Believe it or not, Tony, but I was at a funeral- just not Kate's."

"Whose? Who else-" But the senior agent stopped, turning to glance at Ziva over his shoulder. "You were with her?"

"Ari Haswari was a childhood friend of mine, Tony. I grew up with him and Ziva and Tali in Israel. It was only right that I return to bid him goodbye."

The older man moved away from Tim's desk without a word. Instead, he returned to his own desk, turning his gaze on Ziva. "What are you doing here?"

The Mossad officer glanced at Tim, before removing the green folder from her bag and going to him. "Mossad has assigned me to NCIS as a liaison officer, Agent DiNozzo." She glanced at Tim again, struggling to keep the smile from tugging at her lips. "We are going to be working together. Here are my orders, signed by Director Shepard." She held them out; Tony took them, studying the papers silently before shoving them back at her, just as Gibbs entered, coffee in hand. The Team Leader stopped, surprised to see Ziva in the bullpen. She made her way towards him, holding out a hand. "Agent Gibbs."

"Ziva." He took her hand, shaking firmly. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking forward to being a member of your team." Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry?"

"Mossad has assigned me as a liaison officer to NCIS." She held out the folder. "These are my orders, signed by the director-" But Gibbs brushed past her, heading for the stairs and MTAC. At the same time, Tony stormed off to the break room, leaving her and Tim alone. She sighed, going to his desk and perching on the edge, taking his cup from his hand and taking a sip. "Well, I feel like a donkey's butt."

"Horse's ass, baby."

She met his gaze over the rim of the cup. "Yes, that too." He chuckled, grabbing her hand and pulling her gently into his lap. Once settled, she nuzzled into his neck, hoping Jenny was on their side.

Up in MTAC, Jenny looked up to see Gibbs drop into the chair next to hers. She ignored him, focusing on the shipping containers on the screen, the feel of his ice blue eyes boring into the side of her skull. A moment passed, before he finally spoke,

"I've got a personnel problem, Jen, would you care to help me with that?"

The redhead turned to him. "I take it Tim returned and Ziva arrived a few days early-" She stopped. "Right."

Gibbs bristled. "Tim, right. What is his role in all this?"

Jenny met his gaze. "Agent McGee had no role in this, Jethro." A blatant, out-and-out lie, but better to keep the young agent out of Gibbs's cross-hairs.

"Then what the hell is she doing here?"

"She's one of the finest agents I ever worked with-"

"Mossad trained her to spy and kill, not investigate crime scenes. Send her to the CIA."

"This is not a request nor a debate. And as for the CIA- they can't teach her what I want her to learn."

"Meaning?" She smirked.

"I learned from the best, Jethro, and so have Tony and Tim. I want Ziva to as well." The silver-haired agent let out a soft growl, springing from the chair and leaving the room. A moment passed before Jenny followed, stopping on the catwalk, watching as he made his way down to the bullpen, where Tony sat glaring at his remaining partner and the officer he was blatantly flirting with. Suddenly though, the pair sprang apart, Ziva rising as Gibbs entered the bullpen. "Pack your trash, David."

Ziva glanced over her shoulder at Tim, surprised. She swallowed, glancing towards the catwalk before turning back to Gibbs. "Not a problem. Most of my personal possessions have not yet been shipped from Tel Aviv to Washington. They were going to arrive next week, but..." She grabbed her things and then turned back to Tim, holding out a hand.

Jenny could hear the tears in her voice, and she curled her hands around the rail, planning on having a good, long talk with Gibbs-

"Walk me out, Tim? Please?"

Jenny watched the young man spring to his feet, taking her hand; they moved past Gibbs, Tim pulling Ziva close, protecting her as they headed for the elevator. As the pair stepped into the box, Gibbs glanced up at Jenny and then turned, rushing to catch up. She watched him slip into the elevator just as the doors slide closed.


	31. Chapter 31

She swallowed, struggling to keep the tears at bay. "What do we tell-"

He sighed, taking her hands and playing with her fingers. "I don't know, but we'll think of something, baby, I promise." She went to him, sliding her arms around his neck; tears glistened in her eyes before dropping onto her cheeks.

"I do not want to live another five years of my life without you in it, Tim." He pulled her close, brushing a soft kiss to her lips-

"I told you to pack your trash, Ziva." The pair looked up as Gibbs skipped easily into the elevator, just as the door closed. He flicked on the emergency brake. "I don't remember giving either of you permission to leave." Ziva's gaze snapped towards the team leader, though she didn't remove herself from Tim's embrace. Gibbs moved closer. "You requested this assignment?" She nodded. "Why?"

"She had to get away from Mossad for a while." Gibbs's gaze flicked towards his agent, and he moved towards the younger man, though he spoke to Ziva.

"You believe what Ari said about your father?"

Tim shook his head. "No."

"Yes." His green eyes widened as Ziva spoke at the same moment, and Gibbs looked between the pair. Ziva swallowed. "Maybe."

"Your brother was a Svengali, Ziva."

She glanced at Tim, reaching out to lace their fingers together; her voice choked with tears. "Like father... like son."

"Does Mossad suspect-"

"No." Tim spoke up, meeting his boss's gaze. "They believe your report."

"For that, I thank you, Gibbs." He nodded.

"You know I trust you, Ziva. Both of you. But when we leave this elevator-" The pair shared a relieved glance, and Ziva squeezed Tim's hand.

"You start kicking my butt."

Gibbs grumbled softly. "I don't kick butt." He flipped the brake off, hitting the button to take them back up to the bullpen. The three rode the elevator in silence-

Both Tim and Ziva jolted forward slightly as Gibbs reached behind, smacking them both lightly on the back of the head. Ziva started, glancing at Tim before turning to the Team Leader, but all Gibbs did was smile. She giggled, instantly shutting up when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Without letting releasing hands, Tim and Ziva stepped out of the elevator, following Gibbs back to the bullpen, much to Tony's obvious annoyance. "Ms. David will be with us for a while."

Around midnight, the pair slipped into Tim's apartment, exhausted from the day. Once the door shut behind them, Tim grabbed Ziva around the waist, pulling her back towards him. He held her close, searching her face for a moment before taking her mouth in his. She slid her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, giggling as he slipped his hands beneath her clothing to caress her skin. He ran a finger up her back, hitting the vertebrae of her spine, making her jump-

"Tim-" But she pulled away when she realized his gaze was directed on something just behind them. "Timmy, what is it?" He pulled away, and Ziva watched as he made his way to the middle of his living room. He knelt down, grabbing something off the floor. His gaze widened. "Tim, talk to me." She rushed to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You are scaring- what is that?"

He turned to her. "It's... addressed to both of us." He swallowed, turning his gaze back to the return address. "From... from Ari."

"What?" She knelt down beside him, studying the package. It was a large, brown shipping envelope- the kind used to send important documents or files somewhere, the kind that small fragile items were sometimes shipped in. She took it from him; it was soft, flexible, so this wasn't anything valuable. "That... this... this cannot be from..." She met his gaze. "Ari is dead. There is no way he could have sent this..."

"That's his handwriting, Ziva." Tim whispered, standing. She shook her head, not wanting to believe it.

"No..." She choked on a sob; tears dripped onto the envelope, blurring her brother's name. Tim helped her to her feet, pushing he towards the kitchen. He fixed two cups of jasmine tea, and then joined her at the table. Ziva sat staring at the envelope, tears gliding down her cheeks. He reached out, taking her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckes. "I do not understand, Tim. Ari is dead- we... we buried him a week ago. How... how is this possible?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, baby." They sat in silence for several minutes, before he took a deep breath. "How about we open it together, okay?"

She met his gaze, nodding. "Okay."

They worked in silence, opening the envelope and slipping the contents onto the table- several slim, dark blue folders, a handful of Polaroids, a length of white braided silk, and a small silver horseshoe. The last thing to slip out was a folded sheet of paper. "What is all this?" Tim grabbed the Polaroids, sifting through them as Ziva picked up the sheet of paper.

Her breath caught, as she read her brother's familiar handwriting.

Timothy and Ziva,

By now, I am already cold in my grave...

"This doesn't make any sense... these are..." He glanced down at the date printed on many of the photographs.

1985.

These were taken twenty-two years ago.

"This can't possibly be right-"

Ziva reached over, grabbing his sleeve and tugging gently. "Tim."

"We were... six... this was... no one knew where we were. This was our place-"

Ziva tugged harder on his shirt. "Tim!"

His head snapped up. "What?"

She held the letter out, fresh tears in her eyes. "We... we do not need to discuss a wedding." He furrowed a brow.

"What are you talking about?"

Ziva sniffled. "According to Ari, we... we are already married."


	32. Chapter 32

"What do you mean we're married?"

Ziva sat, silent, as Tim scanned the letter, tears in her eyes. They had spent the last two hours looking over everything- what turned out to be a marriage license and other various documents in regards to a marriage, a rope for hand-fastening- a tradition in Irish weddings and a small horseshoe, of which meant good luck in the Irish tradition. In the letter, Ari explained the various functions of each, explaining the significance and why he'd sent them to the pair. It was bad enough receiving the envelope from her dead brother, but the information within-

Neither of you may remember that day in the synagogue, but I do. I was helping Rabbi Wiesel gather supplies to take to the camps on my next visit to the Gaza camps-

Tim scoffed, turning to her. "There's no way this is real, Ziva. What... what Ari's claiming is complete... rubbish! There's absolutely no possible way that there is any sort of truth to what he's claiming-"

"What about the photos, Tim? They were taken in nineteen-eighty-five. There was no such thing as... dentisting photos back then."

"Doctoring, Ziva." Tim corrected automatically. She sighed.

"Well, whatever. The point is, there is no way those photos are fake." She held them out, pointing to the time stamps. "Look at the date- we were at the synagogue that day, Tim, do you not remember?"

"Of course I remember, Ziva! But... what we were doing that day wasn't serious! We were playing a game! We were being kids, keeping ourselves occupied! It was nothing but pretend!"

"What about us, Tim?" Ziva snapped, climbing to her feet. "Was that a game? Hmm? Is what we have a game? Just... pretend... just... something to keep us occupied?"

He sighed, setting the letter back on the table. "Ziva, there is no way this is real. Two six-year-olds can't pretend to get married in a burned-out synagogue and then discover years later that it's real! It doesn't happen-"

She crossed to him, grabbing his face, forcing him to listen to her. "But it is. The paperwork is signed by both Rabbi Weisel and the priest of the church at the embassy! It is there in black and white, Timothy. I am your wife... and you are my husband. I thought... this was what we wanted. To be together for the rest of our lives." Tears slid down her cheeks, and she took a deep breath. "I thought you loved me."

A moment passed, before he pulled her close, resting his forehead to hers. "I do, Ziva. I love you so much, baby. But... how can this possibly be real? The couple needs to sign the license as well, and we didn't. We didn't even know about it. And if we didn't... if we didn't know about it, then... then it's not real, Ziva. No matter what Ari says."

She choked on a sob, shaking her head. "Ari... in the letter, he... he says that... that Rabbi Weisel told Ima and... and... it is an... inter-religious... a self-uniting marriage. Ari said that... that Ima knew, and that... that your mother knew-"

"But that's not possible. Mams never said a word-"

"Because Rabbi Weisel asked them not to say anything, according to Ari." She rose onto her toes, leaning towards her. "Tim-"

But he pulled away, turning from her and leaning against the kitchen counter. Minutes passed, before Ziva realized his shoulders were shaking, and she went to him, sliding her arms around him from behind and resting her cheek against his back. "Baby please... I know this seems impossible, but..." She sniffled, tightening her hold on him. "You are always telling me that... that impossible things do happen. That... that miracles come true. You believe in a beauty no one else can see, and you craft stories with touches and kisses..." She pressed a kiss to his back, choking on a sob. "and you made me fall in love with you... simply be being yourself. How can you not see that?"

Slowly, she moved until she'd inserted herself into his arms, her own sliding around his neck. Gently, she ran her fingers through the goose down at the nape of his neck. "Ziva-" But her lips were on his, drinking him in, tugging him towards her until she was trapped against the counter. She drank in his taste, deepening the kiss as she wrapped an arm tight around his neck and shoulders, refusing to let him go.

"I have loved you... from the moment we met, Timothy." She rested her forehead to his, each breath caressing his cheeks the kiss of an angel's wing. "I have always loved you. So if this... game we played is a marriage," She bit her lip. "Then we need to build it together. We need to make it strong and stable and... beautiful." She took his hand, resting it against her abdomen, before meeting his gaze again. "So that when we conceive our..." She stopped, worrying her lip briefly. "So when I one day bear our firstborn... our child will know peace. So that they will grow and live in a home filled with love and laughter and... and trust."

Their lips met softly, and she nudged her nose against his. "God, Ziva, you can't seriously-"

"Shh." She kissed his gently, silencing his protests. "What we have is a miracle, baby. A beautiful miracle. Why can you not see that? I can." She kissed him firmly. "I can see a home crafted from love and filled to the ceilings with happiness. I can see a baby with your eyes and my nose... a life that is ours, crafted when we were children." She sniffled, pulling away and grabbing the silk rope from the table.

Once she returned, she wound a portion around her wrist before taking his hand and doing the same, until they were tied together; she then slid her fingers through his, meeting his gaze. "Ari is right, Tim. We have been bound together by God. The strands of our very souls were chosen and plucked from Heaven before either of us existed. Adonai chose us himself to be partners- in both body and soul. How else do you explain it?"

He sighed, keeping silent. She reached up, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "Tim, please. Do not stop believing in miracles, my beautiful husband." Something in his eyes sparked at the simple word. "Because a miracle put you in my path." Tears glistened in her eyes and she took a shaky breath, reaching for him. "Twenty-two years ago, a miracle brought you to me, and me to you."

His mouth crashed onto hers, their hands lacing together, their hearts, finally, after all these years, in full, complete synchronicity.


	33. Chapter 33

They screamed for each other, reaching for and meeting in the blankets of the bed, mouths and skin and hearts burning with a passion neither had ever felt before. They drank deep from each other, tasting the sweet nectar of a love long buried and finally discovered after years beneath the rubble. The smell of sex filled the room, the taste of orgasm and feel of desire igniting a deeper fire never acknowledged. She pushed him onto his back, her hair cascading down around them; a waterfall of rich, silky chocolate that left the scent of jasmine on his skin and in his nose, hours after the act. They took turns, lying within the blankets of what was now their marriage bed, hands moving and touching and exploring; mouths rediscovering and tasting. And when they finally lay, spent, among the blankets, sweat and sex cooling on their skin, he whispered soft apologies against her lips as she caressed and cradled and calmed the raging storm that had taken over his soul.

When Tim awoke the next morning at four, he found Ziva sprawled out on top of him, her head nestled beneath his chin. Strands of her hair clung to their skin, and gently, he brushed it off her back, causing her to nestle closer and sigh contentedly in her sleep. His fingers brushed over something, and he lifted his head, before sitting up slowly, making sure to keep her against him. It was then that he saw what resided upon her back.

A tattoo.

No, that couldn't be right. It was forbidden in Judaism to intentionally mutilate the body in any way-

But as he studied the design on her back, he realized that Ziva had done just that.

It ran from her left shoulder, diagonally down her back towards her right hip- and what surprised him was the design.

A white tiger and a black dragon, one facing up, the other down, looking ready to attack the other. And in between them; a tribal dove tattoo, carrying an olive branch within its beak, its wings open as it took flight, nestled protectively between the dragon and the tiger. Tim sighed, knowing the meaning instantly.

They were yin and yang, duality and balance, the constant fight to preserve that delicate balance of shared power, and the knowledge that within that balance, love always remained.

As his fingers trailed over the beautiful design on her back, Ziva awoke, slowly lifting her head from his chest, blinking the sleep from her eyes. A small smile graced her lips, and she reached up, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. "Boker Tov, ba'al."

The side of Tim's mouth quirked up, and studied her for a moment. "Good morning, baby." She rolled her eyes, leaning closer; their lips met in a soft kiss, and after, she rested her forehead against his. After a moment, Ziva slipped off him, settling into his side, resting her head on her arm, watching him. She became lost in thought, before whispering,

"A part of me was hoping we made a baby last night." She reached for Tim, but he shifted, moving to the edge of the bed. "I know it was not possible, because I am on birth control and we use protection, but I could not help but hope."

"Mmhmm."

She furrowed a brow. "Tim? Baby, what is wrong?" She sat up, crawling towards him and running her hands up his back, her lips following. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her tongue finding the sensitive spot behind his hear-

"That's enough, Ziva!" He shrugged her off, reaching for his clothes.

She sat back, watching as he quickly got dressed. "What is wrong with you, Tim?" Once in a pair of jeans, he turned to her, hair falling into his eyes.

"We shouldn't have done this, Ziva."

"Done what, Tim? Had sex? Make love? Tim... we always make love. It has never been sex, it has always been love between us-"

"I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about this! Living together... sharing an apartment and a bed and..." He stopped, moving away and dropping into the armchair across from the bed, suddenly defeated. Slowly, silently, Ziva got up, quickly pulling on a pair of underwear and a shirt, before going to him.

"Tim?" She knelt before him. "Tim, please, talk to me. Baby, you are scaring me." She reached for his hand, but he pulled away, so instead, she reached out, lifting his chin. "Oh, Tim." Tears slid down his cheeks, fat and glistening like crystals in the dark. Without a word, she climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close, pressing his head to her chest, his ear over her heart. She brushed a firm kiss to his head, feeling his arms slowly slide around her waist, keeping her close.

"I watched my parents... their marriage... I watched it fall apart... by the time Mams died... Da filed... they had divorced and... he..."

"Shh, take your time, baby."

He squeezed her waist gently. "Orli."

"What?" She pulled away, looking down at him.

"Orli Elbaz... she broke... destroyed... their marriage..."

Ziva thought a moment; the name sounded familiar- and then it hit her. Orli was one of her father's top agents in Mossad. She was a woman who would do anything to advance her position in the agency, even go so far as to begin an affair with the man Eli considered family- Ambassador McGee. It didn't matter that John had a family, that Kathleen loved him with her last breath... to Orli, they were pawns to be played and taken off the chess board. Suddenly, the pieces began to fall into place- Tim's pulling away from everyone he loved, his insistence on going to college in the States...

It was all because of Orli.

Instead of slipping into the background while he watched his parents' marriage implode- and possibly getting caught in the crossfire- Tim had removed himself completely from the equation; walking away from all he loved and knew in Israel for a life in the States, where he didn't have to watch his father destroy his mother's heart. His resistance to marriage was in reality, the fear that he would follow in his father's footsteps-

Like father, like son.

Just as Ziva had claimed of her own father and brother in the elevator.

This fear of marriage was more a fear of hurting her than skittishness. It was a fear that had most likely grown and cultivated in his heart for years.

Slowly, she took his face in her hands, brushing the tears away. "Oh, baby-"

"If she had never... I would not have turned into..." He took a deep breath. "Maybe I would have been a different man, had she never-"

"Shh." She brushed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Do not think that, Tim." She rested her cheek against his forehead. "I love the man you have become and so for that, I am thankful to Orli. I could not imagine having you any other way. I do not want you any other way than what you are. You are perfect, and you are beautiful, and you are mine. You belong to me and me alone, just as I belong to you." Slowly, she pulled away, meeting his gaze. "It is etched into our souls- you are mine, baby, and I am yours. I have always been yours and you have always been mine, remember?"

When she kissed him minutes later, she tasted the very fabric of his soul.


	34. Chapter 34

Ziva watched Tim slip the envelope with Ari's 'evidence' into his bag. He grabbed the keys from the table and turned to her. "You coming?" He held out a hand, and she took it, slipping her fingers through his. The drive to the Navy Yard at four that morning was quiet, and once they pulled into the parking garage, Tim turned to her. "Ziva, I'm sorry."

She furrowed a brow. "For what?"

He sighed, leaning his head against the rest and closing his eyes; he could hear her unbuckling her seat belt, and then felt her climbing over the controls, settling in his lap. When he opened his eyes, she was straddling him, her arms around his neck. "For the way I've been acting. I've been... acting like a spoiled brat, throwing a temper tantrum when I didn't get what I want. I shouldn't be acting like that- especially not in regards to you, baby. I should be grateful that you're back in my life, and instead... instead I'm... I'm lashing out at you when none of this is your fault."

"It is not your fault either, Tim." She sighed. "Look, I know what your father did was horrible, but you are not him-"

"It was temptation that tore him from Mams, Ziva." He took a deep breath. "And he didn't resist. What if the same thing happens to us?"

She shrugged, playing with the hair at the back of his neck before meeting his gaze. "Then I kill her."

He raised an eyebrow, which she mirrored. "Ziva-"

"Besides, Timmy," She whispered, her lips caressing the delicate shell of his ear, "I highly doubt that any other woman you stray for would be able to keep you on your toes or as satisfied sexually as I do. Or have you forgotten what I can do with my tongue?" She pressed a soft kiss to his ear, her tongue flicking gently along the inner edge, as one small hand slid down his chest, working on his jeans-

Thank God they had parked in the shadows of the parking garage.

By the time they arrived in the bullpen, coffee in hand, Gibbs was sitting at his desk; Ziva stopped, there was a woman perched on the edge of his desk, her short black hair in pigtails on top of her head. Dressed head to toe in black- with the exception of the red plaid schoolgirl-type skirt that just reached mid-thigh- she was the most peculiar person Ziva had ever seen, and the Israeli opened her mouth to say so, before clamping her mouth shut. But the small noise she'd made had been just loud enough for the woman to hear, and she turned, her eyes instantly narrowing.

"Who are you?" She sounded like she was recovering from a cold, and she towered over Ziva- though that was due more to the black, six inch platform buckled boots she wore than her actual five-foot-ten height. She was exceedingly pale, even more so than Tim- a living ghost among humans. And she wore several studded bracelets on her wrists, but what caught Ziva's eye was the dog collar around her neck. All the woman needed was a leash and a master, and she'd be all set for a round of 'puppy play'- a popular BDSM role playing game. "Hey, are you deaf?" She snapped out of her study to see the woman relate something in sign language.

"Um... we have not officially met. Ziva." She held out a hand.

The woman narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. "You're that officer aren't you? The one from Israel."

"Mossad, yes."

"You're hear to take Kate's place, aren't you?" The woman accused, gaze flicking to her hand. Ziva glanced from Tim to Gibbs and back.

"I... I am not... I am... a liaison officer, attached to Agent Gibbs's team. I am not here to..." She stopped, biting her lip, before glancing at the desk in question. "Though... I do not think Kate would mind."

The sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the silent bullpen, and both Gibbs and Tim looked up from their work to see Ziva and the woman staring at each other. The Israeli's eyes widened momentarily in shock, before she returned the slap- only to receive another in retaliation by the time Gibbs and Tim had climbed to their feet and rushed from their desks.

In the end, it was Ziva the victor, having gotten one final slap in before Tim grabbed her around the waist, wrenching her away from the woman. "Put me down, Timothy! Axshav!" She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Now!" Gibbs, meanwhile, kept his hands firmly on the other woman's arms.

"How dare you! Kate was a valued and loved member of this team! She was wanted and accepted! Unlike you! We didn't want you- we don't want you!"

"Abby!" The other woman turned her gaze to Tim, who set Ziva back on her feet; she pulled away, tossing a curl out of her face. Without a word, the officer turned, storming out of the bullpen, headed for the elevator. Tim glared at the other woman, before catching up with her.

"Timmy, wait! Where are you going?" He turned back in the entrance to the bullpen, holding onto Ziva's hand after having caught up with her. He narrowed his eyes at her, before turning back to Ziva; it was clear he had a choice to make- his team, or the girl he'd been with his entire life. A moment passed, before he turned back to Abby, though he spoke to Gibbs.

"With my wife."

Abby's mouth dropped, and Gibbs released her, the shock from the simple statement having floored him completely.

And suddenly, the elevator doors opened and Tony came shuffling out, looking more the worse for wear; he stopped when Tim and Ziva rushed past him. Tim slipped his hand between the inch left in the closing doors, sending them opening again, before he pulled the Israeli officer into the car with him and punched the button. As the doors closed, Tim pulled Ziva into his side, pressing a kiss to her head. Once they were gone, Tony turned back to the bullpen, glancing at Gibbs and Abby.

"What'd I miss?"


	35. Chapter 35

"Did you mean it, Tim?"

He raised an eyebrow over the rim of his coffee cup at her. The pair sat at a small table in a secluded corner of the cafe that serviced the Navy Yard, having left NCIS Headquarters not long after Tony arrived. His green gaze studied her face, and he set his cup down after taking a sip. Her cheek was red, the skin slightly swollen from the impact; a slight imprint of a hand could be seen if you searched for it. He reached over, gently brushing his thumb over her cheek; despite the facade she wore, Ziva winced at his touch. "Mean what?" He whispered, clucking his tongue gently, being tender as he caressed her cheek.

"When you called me your wife."

Their gazes locked, and Tim lowered his hand, folding his arms on the table. "Ziva," He saw her deflate slightly, and reached out, squeezing her hand quickly. "According to Ari, we were married that day in the synagogue, in a self-uniting marriage. In America, it's called a Quaker marriage-"

"What is a... Quaker?"

"They're a religious group. They settled the state of Pennsylvania during the American Revolution. Essentially, they believe in Christianity, but also have a very high religious tolerance, if I remember my history right. So, what we have is a self-uniting marriage, we had no officiant, no witnesses-"

"Ari and Rabbi Weisel witnessed it, only we did not see them." Ziva whispered. "And the officiant we had was God, Tim." She met his gaze. "Couples are united in marriage before God every day; just because they do the whole ceremony and flowers and dress and party... does that make their marriages any less legitimate than ours? What does it matter that a piece of paper has our signatures or not?" She reached out, taking his hand in hers, their fingers lacing. He met her gaze. "God does not care how many guests were at the ceremony or if there were any guests at all; He does not care about the cake or the dancing or the... flower girls and bridesmaids."

She took his other hand, sliding her hand against his before their fingers laced together, squeezing gently. "All that God cares about is that those getting married love each other; that is all that matters to Him. That the people standing before him truly love each other and are willing to do everything possible to make their marriage and their life together work. That is the only thing that God truly cares about. That you and I love each other and will do everything in our power to make sure our marriage succeeds." She met his gaze. "Okay?"

He sighed, nodding silently. Giving him a quick smile, she leaned over the table, stealing a kiss-

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused the pair to break apart. Gibbs stood before them, coffee in hand, eyes filled with questions. "You two with me." And without another word, he turned on his heel, stalking out of the cafe. Slowly, the pair got up, following. Once they returned to NCIS and slipped into the elevator, Gibbs hit the break halfway towards the bullpen and turned to the pair. "Care to explain your little declaration in the bullpen, McGee?"

Tim swallowed, glancing at Ziva before,

"Not particularly, Gibbs."

The older man nodded. "Well you're gonna have to. Because Abby and I weren't the only ones you told."

Tim and Ziva sighed, realizing who he meant.

Now silent, Gibbs turned and flipped the brake off. When they reached the bullpen, Gibbs led the pair up the stairs towards the Director's office; Tony and Abby- who had gone crying to the Senior agent as soon as he stepped behind his desk- watched as Gibbs led the way into Jenny's office. She was waiting for them, her gaze on the national mall across the river.

"Agent McGee, Officer David, have a seat, please." The pair shared a glance. "At the table."

Once the quartet were seated at the table, Ari's evidence laid out before them, and the story explained, Jenny spoke up, even as she leafed through the photographs. "Well, it seems you both left out quite a substantial part of the story. A self-uniting marriage that has been in existence for nearly twenty-two years."

"I can assure you, Director, neither Ziva nor I knew. We didn't know about it until last night, when I found the envelope in my mail."

"From Ari's letter, everything is true. Our marriage exists, because it was self-uniting. We did not know, Jenny. I promise you, we did not know."

Gibbs and Jenny shared a glance. "Would you both excuse us for a moment, Ziva, Tim?" The pair watched as they stood, slipping out of the office, catching hands as the door closed behind them. Jenny sighed, getting up and wandering to the window. "I can't allow this, Jethro."

"They're kids, Jen. They'll learn not to do it again."

"I don't mean that, Jethro. I'm talking about the team." She returned to him, taking a seat beside him and picking up Ari's letter. "There has never been a couple on the same team before." He raised an eyebrow at his former partner, and she sighed. "I don't mean that." She quickly scanned the letter before setting it aside. "There has never been a married couple on the same team within the history of NCIS. It's not done. For the simple fact that eventually the relationship will take precedence over the team- and in the situations we face every day, that is unacceptable. I can't allow it."

She moved to gather the things Ari had sent, but Gibbs beat her to it, and after a moment, she stood, leaving the room. Gibbs hurried to catch up, the envelope in his hand. As he and Jenny headed down to the bullpen, they found Tony and Abby sitting at his desk, watching Tim and Ziva across the room. Ziva had pulled the chair from her desk over to his, and they sat, heads together, hands linked and voices soft. As they entered the bullpen, Gibbs watched Tim reach up, brushing a tear off her cheek. He pulled her into his embrace, rubbing her back, whispering softly to her.

Jenny stepped forward, clearing her throat softly. The couple leaped apart, turning. Instantly, they were on their feet, waiting. "Well, what's the verdict?" The director gave Tim a sad smile. She folded her hands before her, taking a deep breath.

"I understand that your relationship began long before either of you crossed paths with NCIS. And as you both know, NCIS is a civilian agency, under the control of the Secretary of the Navy. And because of that, our jobs are often dangerous." She glanced at Ziva, seeing the tears on the young officer's cheeks. "Never in the history of NCIS, has a team been partially comprised of married agents, and there is a reason for that. Because one case- one bad decision, one instance of turning your back on your partner to protect your spouse in a dangerous situation- can jeopardize the entire assignment. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it. Now, I can either transfer Agent McGee to another team, or I can terminate your liaison position with NCIS and you can return to Mossad, Ziva. Those are the choices. I'm sorry."

Ziva turned to Tim, her eyes glassy. A moment passed, before she excused herself, dashing down the hall towards the bathroom. They watched her go, before Tim sighed. "Director, I mean no disrespect, but Ziva isn't an official agent at NCIS, remember? She's a liaison. From Mossad."

And without another word, he went after her.


	36. Chapter 36

He wasn't sure why, but he checked the men's room first.

Maybe it was because he was used to finding her in the boys' room as opposed to the girls'. Maybe it was because he and Ziva had been attached at the hip for years, so things like the boys' room didn't bother her, unlike how it bothered Tali. Even when they were children, Ziva was always sneaking into the boys' room- unlike most of the girls, being around boys didn't gross her out. If anything, it intrigued her, and Tim was usually in there, so she had a reason to go in. Just like the guys' locker room. While most of the guys had freaked out when she walked in, Tim had gotten so used to seeing her in the locker room in high school that he even greeted her with a proper kiss because she expected on. That's not to say she didn't occasionally get caught- but the catchings were few and far between and often ended with a warning, mainly because everyone knew who her father was, and who she was involved with- and who Tim's father was. So she was often left alone to do as she pleased.

And Ziva took advantage of her freedom to roam the boys' bathroom. She had grown up with him and Ari, after all. She was used to getting her way- at least when it was deemed important.

He pushed the door open, stepping inside to find her leaning against the counter, taking deep breaths, struggling to calm her temper, although a quick glance at the paper towel dispenser told him that her temper had gotten the better of her... again.

Now that was familiar.

"Oh, Ziva-" He made his way towards her, wrapping her in his arms from behind. She leaned into his embrace and then turned, burying her face in his chest. "It'll be okay."

"No... Tim... you... you heard Jenny... no... no married agents..." She choked on a sob. "What... what will we tell Abba? And... and your father?"

He sighed, resting his chin against her head. "We'll figure something out, baby, I promise." She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him, listening to the beat of his heart. "Although on the bright side, we won't have to go through with that wedding." A moment passed before she lifted her head, raising an eyebrow. "What? We won't." A soft laugh escaped her throat, and he grinned, happy to have made her smile, even if only for a little while.

When they left the bathroom, Tim slipped a hand into hers, pulling her close. As they rounded the corner towards the bullpen, they found Gibbs watching them with that blue stare. The team leader was silent as he made his way towards the couple, reaching up to gently smack the younger agent. Tim jumped lightly, his eyes snapping shut quickly before opening again. He met the older agent's gaze. He moved closer, his lips brushing Tim's ear. "She's Mossad, McGee."

Tim furrowed a brow, confused as to why his boss was pointing out the obvious. "I know that." Gibbs raised an eyebrow, smacking his agent lightly one last time, before leaning towards them both.

"It's called a loophole."

The pair shared a glance, before turning back to Jenny, who leaned against Gibbs's desk as the older agent joined her. He glanced back at the couple. "Gibbs."

"She's not NCIS, Director. She's Mossad."

"She's still attached to your team-"

"But she's not officially a member of my team. She's Mossad." Jenny glanced from Ziva and Tim to Gibbs and back, and sighed, knowing full well that she was cornered and had no other option but to consent.

"Very well, Ziva can stay. But if their relationship compromises the team in any way-"

"Yeah, yeah, I will personally remove them both." Gibbs replied; Jenny glared at Gibbs as she returned to her office. Once she was gone, Tim and Ziva returned to the bullpen. Ziva glanced at Kate's desk and then at Gibbs. Silently, she walked to the desk on the other side of the partition and grabbed her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She squeezed Tim's hand as she passed, slipping behind Kate's desk and depositing her things before taking a seat at the desk.

Abby narrowed her eyes, but Tony grabbed her arm, holding her back.

Ziva sighed, folding her hands on the desktop as she looked up at Gibbs. "She is gone, Gibbs. I do not think Kate will mind." They all watched then as Ziva pulled open the bottom drawer, taking something out and getting up. She held it out to him, an offering being placed at the feet of Jesus to bless it. Her gaze moved to his, locking. "I found this yesterday, before Tim and I left. I have a feeling," She sighed. "That she would have wanted you to have it."

Slowly, he took it, studying the sketchbook. Kate had carried it everywhere with her-

"Go home." Ziva furrowed a brow, confused, before glancing back at Tim. "All of you. Go home. You have the rest of the day off."

It took a moment, but eventually, they did as told, Abby returning to her lab, and Tony grabbing his things before fleeing. As Ziva grabbed her gear and waited for Tim to join her, hand out to lace with his, Gibbs glanced towards Jenny, who leaned against the rail of the catwalk. Ziva and Tim glanced back as they walked to the elevator, catching Jenny's gaze.


	37. Chapter 37

Once the door to Tim's apartment closed, he pulled her close, kissing her deeply before slowly pulling away and tugging her back to the bedroom. "How about we make some room for your things when they arrive next week?" She crossed her arms over her chest, watching as he opened the doors to his small walk-in closet and turned to her. She smirked. "What?"

A shrug lifted and lowered her shoulders quickly. "Nothing. You just... seem excited."

The closet forgotten, he moved towards her, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She searched his face for several minutes, before opening his mouth, but he beat her to it. "My... wife gets to stay in America with me, at NCIS. After five years, we're back together- permanently. Am I supposed to be anything other than happy?" She slid her arms around his neck, meeting her gaze.

"No."

He waited. "But?"

She shook her head, her mind on something that had been bugging her since their marriage had been revealed. "Did Jenny seem disappointed today, when she told us that I could stay?"

Tim furrowed a brow, thinking. "Perhaps, but I didn't really notice, why?"

"It is just... I know Jenny is the director... and so... she probably expects everyone to follow her orders with no arguments. She and Abba are a lot alike in that respect." Ziva sighed, suddenly remembering. "What do we tell Abba? And your father? About the marriage- there is no way they will believe what Ari left us."

Tim thought a moment, before grabbing her hand and tugging her back into the living room. He took a seat in front of his laptop, pulling up Skype and logging into it. Ziva joined him, pulling over a chair, until he tugged her into his lap. Minutes passed, and Ziva turned to him, nuzzling her nose against his. It was as she caught his mouth in a soft kiss that Eli and John replied, having met at the embassy that morning for coffee.

"Shalom, Papa." John sat back in his chair, as Eli came around the desk to join the conversation.

"Ah, Timothy, Ziva! We were just discussing you-"

"Should you not be at work? Both of you?" Eli asked, perching on the edge of the short bookcase that sat behind John's desk.

"We were unexpectedly given the day off." Tim replied. "But that isn't why we called. We have something important to tell you." Both men instantly perked up.

"Oh Timothy, Zivaleh, that is wonderful! When is the baby due?" The pair shared a glance, not at all surprised their fathers would automatically assume that a child would be on its way, before Ziva shook her head.

"No, Abba, I am not pregnant. I can assure you, I am not." Eli seemed to deflate briefly.

"So Timothy is not satisfying you enough to conceive-"

Tim let out a soft groan of annoyance, his face in his hands. "Oh my God-"

"Abba!" She glanced back at Tim, who was shaking his head.

"Like we need to discuss the intimacy of our relationship with our-"

"Tim is... he is satisfying me just fine, Abba, I promise, but there is not need for us to try since we are nowhere near ready for parenthood. We are not trying to conceive at all, in fact, we would rather spend the next couple years getting used to marriage before we attempt the conception of a child."

Eli and John had been listening as Ziva had spoken, but her last sentence caused them both to jump in surprise. "I'm sorry, Ziva, I didn't hear you properly. The connection must be bad. What did you say?"

It was Tim that spoke up this time, sliding his arms around Ziva's waist and hugging her. "We are married, Da."

"What? When? And why haven't you let us-"

"Twenty-two years ago." Tim whispered, gently patting Ziva's hip as she got up and retrieved Ari's package from his bag. She settled back on his lap when she returned, and removed the contents, setting them on the desk. Ziva grabbed the letter, unfolding it. "When we got back here yesterday, we found an envelope addressed to us. It was from Ari."

"Ari? But... but Ari is-"

"We know, Abba." And so they explained everything to their fathers- how they'd found the envelope, the letter, the folders of what turned out to be their marriage license, the paperwork indicating a savings account Ari had apparently set up for them not long after discovering that day in the synagogue, the deed for a home in Be'er Sheva that Ari had bought not long after returning from Tehran, and a document saying that Rabbi Weisel had witnessed and approved the marriage, and the photographs, of which Tim scanned and e-mailed to them. Both Eli and John had sat listening, both two shocked to interrupt. When their kids finished, it was John who spoke up.

"How can you be sure this was from Ari?"

"I know his handwriting, Ambassador McGee. He was my brother. And the photos... they could not be doctored back in eighty-five. Ari- he also says in his letter that... if we do not believe him to," She swallowed. "To contact Rabbi Weisel."

Silence settled between the four, before Eli finally gathered his thoughts enough to speak. "So, according to Ari, you have... been married for... little over twenty years without realizing it." They nodded. The Mossad Director watched as Ziva played with Tim's fingers, and he chuckled softly; Rivka used to do the same with him, when she was alive. It always amazed him how much like her mother Ziva was. It was then, though, that he noticed the flash of gold encircling Tim's ring finger. "Timothy, what is that?"

The young man glanced down at the ring on his finger. He shrugged. "Just a ring."

"Where did you get it?" John asked, intrigued. He son thought a moment before frowning.

"I... I don't know. I don't... I've always worn it, for as long as I can remember." He glanced at Ziva, taking her hand and holding it towards the webcam. "Ziva has the exact same one." She shrugged, just as confused as to where it came from as Tim was.

"And you don't remember where you got them?" The pair shared a glance, shaking their heads. John nodded, glancing at Eli. "Well, this is quite a shock, as we were looking forward to your wedding." Ziva gave him a small smile. "But wonderful news nonetheless." He glanced over his shoulder. "We are very proud of both of you."

Tim caught Ziva's eye, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and kissing her sweetly on the lips. "Ken. Welcome to the family, Timothy."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at her father. "Abba, Timmy has always been family." She squeezed Tim's hands, meeting his gaze. "And I have always been theirs."


	38. Chapter 38

"No, a little to the left. To the left, Timmy! My left, not yours!"

"I thought I was going to your left!"

A knock sounded on the door that neither heard, followed by footsteps. "Um... hello?"

"I told you, I have step stool, why don't we just-"

"Because I am perfectly able to-"

The pair turned to see Sarah in the kitchen, confused. "Um... what's going on?"

Ziva was sitting on Tim's shoulders, trying to fix what appeared to be a ceiling fan in the kitchen. The table had been moved to the side, a toolbox sat on the counter beside two empty coffee cups. Ziva had changed into a pair of Tim's boxers and a tank top, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was balanced on his shoulders, wrench in hand. "Hey Sarah."

"Hey Timmy. Um... when did Ziva-"

"We should probably tell her, Tim." Ziva replied, turning back to the task at hand. She rose up slightly, before losing her balance and reaching down, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Ziva... loosen... can't breathe..." Sarah watched in amusement as her brother's girlfriend slowly released her hold, straightening. "Thank... you."

"Sorry, baby."

It was then that Ziva's words registered with the college student. "Tell me what?"

The Israeli turned her attention back to the fan, replying, "I have been assigned to Tim's team at NCIS as a liaison officer."

"That's great, Ziva."

"Yeah, that's... not entirely what she meant, Sarah." Tim replied, whimpering. "Cramp in my neck... cramp..."

Wrench still in hand, Ziva reached down, massaging the muscles in his neck. "Sorry, Sarah. We should probably also tell you that," She stopped, leaning down to look at him. "Better?" He nodded. "We are married."

Without a word, Sarah dropped into the a chair at the table, the Chinese she'd picked up being placed on the tabletop. "I... I'm sorry? What do you mean you're... married?" Once finished fixing the fan, Ziva tossed the wrench into the toolbox and took Tim's hands. In one swift, clean jump, she'd pushed off and- in a very ballet move- leapt off Tim's shoulders, landing lightly on her feet behind him. They both washed their hands before moving the table back towards the center of the room; Tim then flicked the light switch up- the light turned on and the fan began to move, no longer shaking or acting as though it would fly off the ceiling as it quickened. Satisfied, Tim went into the living room, coming back with the envelope and handed it to Sarah.

"It's all in there." Ziva grabbed plates and set them on the table, watching in silence as Sarah read and looked through everything.

"So... so you two are..."

"It's self-uniting, Sarah." Tim whispered, taking a seat beside his sister. He caught her gaze, keeping silent. Once she finished looking through everything, he said, "You can believe us or not, but according to Ari, our marriage is valid-"

"Do Da and Director David know?"

"We told them after we got home today." Ziva said, perching on Tim's lap. She glanced between Sarah and Tim; the pair were studying each other, an entire conversation passing between the siblings without a word being said.

"So..." Sarah began, placing everything on the counter as Tim began to dish out the food onto three plates. "We're... sisters now?" She turned to Ziva, who had gotten up and poured three cups of coffee, bringing them back to the table.

"We have always been sisters, Sarah, but... yes. Now, we are officially sisters." The trio settled at the table and started eating, before Sarah got up, rushing to Ziva and throwing her arms around the woman from behind with a squeal. The Israeli jumped, dropping her chopsticks as Sarah pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"I have always wanted a sister!" Tim rolled his eyes, smirking in silence, before Sarah threw herself at him, her arms going around his neck. "I don't care if it took you two idiots twenty-some years to realize you're married. You gave me a sister, Timmy. Thank you!" She pressed a sloppy kiss to her brother's cheek; he made a face, causing Ziva to chuckle softly.

"Are you done, Sarah?" He asked, as she returned to her seat. The college student nodded. The trio ate in silence for several minutes before Sarah finally asked,

"So... are you going to have babies soon?"

By the time Sarah left, it was close to eight in the evening. Once the door closed behind her, Tim locked it, turning to Ziva, who leaned against the wall. They stood in silence for several minutes before Tim went to her, catching her mouth in his. When he pulled away, he took her hand. They returned to the bedroom and began working on the closet, and by the time they finished, Tim's closet had been cleaned out and sorted; he'd taken the left side, Ziva the right.

Finished, they collapsed on the bed, surveying the bags of clothing to be sent to Goodwill. "So, we have the closet ready for when my things get here, but about the rest of the apartment?" He wrinkled his nose.

"What exactly did you have shipped?" She thought a moment, before ticking things off on her fingers.

"My clothes, a bookcase, my glass coffee table... I did not know if I would be getting an apartment and needing to buy a bed or not, so I just shipped my bedding instead of my entire bed-" He sighed, laying back against the covers. "Or," She lay beside him, propping her head on her elbow. "We could go shopping for new furniture." She reached over, undoing the buttons on his shirt and pushing it aside to trace patterns against his skin. "You know, make it our home, instead of just yours."

He met her gaze, thinking. "... we're off rotation next weekend. We could go shopping then. And by that time, your things would have arrived..."

She threw herself at him, kissing him deeply in response.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I moved something down from 2011 to 2007 for artistic purposes.

Washington, D.C.,

The Next Weekend

"I like this one, Tim."

He cocked his head to the side. "It's nice, but what would we do with a waterbed?"

She shrugged. "I have never had a waterbed."

"My roommate had a waterbed at MIT. Trust me, baby, you don't want one." She giggled, turning behind her.

"Sarah!" The teenager quickly joined them, linking her arm through Ziva's free one. The team had the weekend off- well, technically, they were on call- and so Tim and Ziva had decided to take the day and go furniture shopping. They'd sorted through Ziva's things over the week, since her stuff had arrived on Monday, and then just finally decided to- in a sense- gut the entire apartment and get all new furniture. Besides, it was about time Tim had changed his furniture anyway; he'd had it five years, and needed a change. "What do you think?"

"Oh hell no, Ziva. You don't want a waterbed." She then tugged on the woman's arm, towards a bedroom set she'd been looking at further down the aisle.

"But why not-"

They stopped in front of a beautiful bedroom set- made of dark, beautiful espresso-colored wood, the frame had drawers built within the sides of the bed for extra storage, and came with two dressers- one an eight-drawer and the other an eleven-drawer. "Well? What do you two think? I think it's exactly you two- modern and contemporary, yet... still possessing that ancient beauty." The pair shared a glance before Tim ran a hand over the foot board.

"It's very beautiful. Don't you think, Ziva?" She nodded, going to one of the drawers and pulling the top one open.

"Yes, but... what would we get? A queen or a king?" It was Sarah that spoke up.

"A queen? It's not as big as a king, and there's still ample room for when you have babies that want to climb into bed and sleep with you at night."

Tim and Ziva rolled their eyes. All Sarah had been able to talk about since they'd told her about their marriage had been the children they would one day have. "That's all fine and dandy, Sarah, but-"

"What is dandy?" He turned to Ziva, shaking his head.

"It's an expression, Ziva." She nodded, joining him.

"Oh." After deciding on the bed set Sarah had shown them, they looked at bedding. Since Ziva liked green and Tim blue, the pair had decided on a compromise- a very pretty bedding set of dark blue and emerald green that faded and grew into each other. They then looked at furniture for the living room- sofas and things and that nature, since they'd decided to keep Ziva's sea-glass table that she'd bought in Tel Aviv the year she graduated high school, and the espresso-colored opened bookcases Tim had bought when he moved to D.C.,- deciding to use the bookcase to separate the desk in the living room from the actual living room itself. The walls of window across from where Tim's desk sat were pushed out- a mock bay in the old Silver Springs apartment building that had been built in the forties. So, using the bay window idea, Tim had created a small reading nook area for Ziva, complete with a window-seat and a small reading table.

They found a very pretty small-sized grey-colored sectional sofa, and a small, glass-topped end-table. The white curtains they'd chosen would cover the floor-to-ceiling windows and accent the exposed brick of the walls, and the TV would be mounted over a nice, espresso-colored entertainment center that had more storage than either needed. They swapped out the small, worn-out cafe table for a very pretty island- and a small, new hardwood cafe style table in the corner near the window, just in case they entertained. The barstools they'd chosen would be perfect for the open counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, and the small pantry that was near the dining table- the door and pantry were at an angle, cut into the wood of the apartment- was given new lighting and a fresh coat of paint.

As for the bath, the glass-enclosed shower and black granite counters were cleaned and given new attention. The small mirror over the sink was swapped out for a good-sized mirror, and the bathroom shelves and hamper were given equal space. Ziva had found a nice rug for the bathroom floor.

So it was over lunch at the small Thai restaurant not far from Tim's apartment that they ran into Tony, with Abby trailing behind him. They'd gone bowling with the nuns at Abby's church.

"I have never read it-"

"Oh, I think you'd like it, Ziva. It's all about these four women who survive the... oh, it was that huge fortress we toured the summer before Timmy left for MIT... the one the Romans stormed-"

"Masada." Tim filled in, taking the book from Sarah and flipping it open to read the synopsis.

"'In 70 C.E., nine hundred Jews held out for months against armies of Romans on Masada, a mountain in the Judean desert. According to the ancient historian Jospehus, two women and five children survived...'" Ziva glanced at Sarah, propping her head on her hand as Tim read the synopsis. "'Yael's mother died in childbirth, and her father, an expert assassin, never forgave her for that death-'"

Sarah gently nudged Ziva's shoulder. "Reminds me of you and Director David." Ziva stared at her, surprised. "I'm sorry, Ziva, that was insensitive-"

"No, Sarah. It was entirely accurate." She reached out, taking the girl's hand. "He does not forgive me for Ima dying in that bombing in Ammon. I was to go with her, and yet, I had school, so I did not and..." She shrugged. "He blamed me then. He still does."

"Sacrifice a daughter for his wife." Tim whispered, having stopped at hearing Ziva's explanation. She never talked of Rivka's death, or the tension that surrounded it in regards to her father and their strained relationship.

"'... Aziza is a warrior's daughter, raised as a boy, a fearless rider and an expert marksman who finds passion with a fellow soldier. Shirah, born in Alexandria, is wise in the ways of ancient magic and medicine, a woman with uncanny insight and power. The lives of these four complex and fiercely independent women intersect in the desperate days of the siege. All are dovekeepers, and all are also keeping secrets- about who they are, where they come from, who fathered them, and whom they love.' Sounds like a good book."

Ziva met Tim's gaze, knowing he was thinking of their marriage and the tension it had brought to the team.

"It is, Timmy. I think you'd both enjoy it." He handed it back to Sarah, but she shook her head. "Keep it, I have another copy." She glanced between the pair. "My... my favorite character is Shirah, the healer. But that's... just because I believe in magic." Sarah stopped, embarrassed.

They had- for it had been the summer before Tali died- had gone up to the Southern District, intent on spending some time at the Dead Sea, when Tim had heard mention of the ancient fortress. Intrigued, the five- for Ari had accompanied the teenagers at request of their parents- and they had walked the desert paths up to the crumbling ruins of Herod's palace, stood overlooking the Judean desert and breathed in the same air the rebels had as they'd held out against the Romans, millennia before any of them were born. It had been an experience none of them would forget, and the last time all five would truly be together.

"Hey, McGee."

Tim looked up to find Tony and Abby standing at the table. "Tony, Abby. What are you doing here?" Tony shrugged.

"We could ask you the same, Timmy." Abby replied, glancing at Ziva. The Israeli narrowed her eyes, reaching over and taking Tim's hand, their fingers lacing.

"Look, McGee-"

"We'd better get going." Tim cut Tony off, not wanting to hear Tony's explanation of why he thought Tim'd turned traitor to the agency for marrying the girl he'd grown up with, years before the agency had even been considered a part of his life. Tony grabbed his arm as he stood.

"Can we talk, Tim? In private?" Tim glanced at Ziva and Sarah. The Israeli beauty stood, taking the cash Tim had pulled from his pocket.

"I will go pay for this. We will meet you out front, baby?" Tim nodded, and Ziva leaned over, making a show of kissing him- sending a clear message to Abby that she needed to stay away. Once they were gone, Tim turned back to his coworkers.

"What did you want to talk about?" Tony sighed,

"Look, Tim, I wanted to... apologize. We both do. We've acted like spoiled, selfish children and we shouldn't have. We're sorry. Both of us."

Tim glanced at Abby, and the Goth nodded, muttering an apology when Tony nudged her firmly. He sighed. "I understand why you felt that way, but this... marriage between Ziva and I... it happened long before NCIS was ever in the picture. She and I have been together since we were six-years-old, and while we may have been separated for five years, we've never gone a day without thinking of each other. Now I don't care if either of you like Ziva or not, she's my wife. And Israel will always have a piece of my soul; it's my home. And if you both have a problem with her, then take it up with Gibbs or Shepard, because when it comes to choosing sides, I always have and always will, chose Ziva's. She is more important to me than any job."


	40. Chapter 40

Their furniture arrived in the middle of the next week, and by the weekend, they had the apartment looking like a home, with little touches both had added. Tim hung the plaque Ari had given him when he left for MIT in the kitchen, so they would always see it, and Ziva had placed a photograph of the five of them on the bookshelf that divided the living room and study area-

Taken when they were children, Tim and Ziva stood in the middle of the small group, Ziva in a pair of overalls and a t-shirt and Tim in a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt, Tali was leaning against back against Tim, holding tight to his hand, in a blue blue shirt and overalls, and Ari, dressed in a red shirt and jeans had Sarah in his arms; she rested her head against his shoulders, the pink dress she wore standing out like a splash of blood in the crystal water of the Aegean Sea. The photograph was proof of just how close the kids were.

So it was the Friday evening- the rare evening they'd gotten home from work at a descent hour- and after dinner, curled up on the sofa with Sarah's extra copy of The Dovekeepers. The couple had taken to reading a couple chapters out loud to each other whenever they were home and had time to spare- much like they used to do when they were children.

"So, where were we?" Ziva curled into his side, flipping pages in the book. A moment passed, before she stopped, pointing to a section. He glanced at her. "You want to read, or should I?" She met his gaze.

"You. I read last night." Tim chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head, before turning back to the book in his hands.

"'... were Nahara's elder sister and mother, each more beautiful than the other. Aziza was sixteen, composed, with dusky olive skin. Asshe stood beside her mother, I could hardly tell them apart. But it was Shirah, the mother, who had chosen me.'"

Ziva sighed softly, and Tim turned to her. "What?" He raised an eyebrow. "I just... I love that name. Shirah."

"Is it Hebrew?" She thought a moment.

"It is Hebrew for 'poetry' or 'singing' but it is not spelled the way it is in the book. There is no 'h' on the end. Often, it is mistaken for Sarah, which means-"

"'Princess', I know." She met his gaze. "What?"

"I want our future daughter to have that name." He chuckled.

"Okay. If we have a baby, and it's a girl, her name will be 'Shirah', sound good?"

"With the 'h,' Tim."

"With the 'h'." He kissed her head. "Can I continue?" She nodded. "'Nahara whispered for me to step forward, reminding me of her mother's faith in me. I wondered if her choice had been made when she spied the dove who came to me without being called. In this place of noise, Shirah was serene, a dark quiet engulfing her. I approached her, then stopped, flustered. Our glances met, and I felt something unexpected between us, a surge of heat. It seemed transparent in her eyes.'"

Ziva shifted closer. "Tali would have loved this story." She whispered. "She loved Masada. Remember? We had to practically drag her away."

"Some people are tied more to the past than the present." Tim replied, thinking of the now-famous photograph of Ziva cradling her sister's dying body in the streets of Tel Aviv. The photo was one of the most recognized in the world- like the image of Omayra Sanchez, the Kent State Shootings, or the photograph of Coretta Scott King holding her daughter at her husband's funeral- it was unforgettable and heartbreaking. So unforgettable, that the man who'd taken it had won the Pulitzer Prize for it.

"Tali belonged to the past. I am just glad we had her for as long as we did." Ziva whispered, meeting Tim's gaze. He pressed a kiss to her head, before returning to the book.

"'I wonder how a lioness will manage in a dovecote. Can you put away your teeth and claws?'" He turned to her. "Would you like to read?" She shook her head. "You sure?" She nodded.

"Um, Tim?" He stopped, waiting for her to continue. "When... when we get to Shirah's story, can I read it?"

"Sure." She grinned.

"The whole thing?" He shrugged.

"If you want to." She giggled, leaning up to kiss his cheek, before settling back against him and tapping the page. "'The other women had gathered round, and they laughed at Shirah's comment. I felt vulnerable and exposed, even though the chamber was dim, with only thin streams of sunlight entering through the roof and screened windows.'"

Ziva shifted onto her back, resting her head against his side, pulling the braid she'd put her hair into her over her shoulder to play with it. "She is a good writer." He nodded. "You should write something like this, Tim." He raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head up to look at him.

"What? About Masada?" She nodded. "As like... an article?"

"No, like a novel."

He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Become a writer? I don't think so, Ziva."

She sat up, turning to him. "Why not? Tim, you have a beautiful way with words-" But one look silenced her enthusiasm and she settled back against him, playing with the ends of her braid.

"'Shirah had one long black braid down her back. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with high cheekbones and dark, nearly black eyes. The other women though she was teasing me, having sense my displeasure over handling birds. They didn't understand what she meant. But I did. She knew what was inside me.'"

"She is pregnant." Ziva whispered, and Tim nodded.

"Mmhmm." He glanced at her, before, "You know what Shirah's description reminds me of?" Ziva shook her head. "You." It was then that Ziva again tilted her head up to look at him, a smile tugging at her features, her dark eyes lighting as she released her braid and reached for him.


	41. Chapter 41

The Navy Yard,

Washington D.C.,

The Following Week

Ziva dropped her things at her desk, trading a kiss for the coffee Tim set before her before he went to his own desk. It was four in the morning, and though Tony hadn't arrived, they knew that Gibbs was skulking around somewhere in the building. Once she'd set her things behind her desk, she went to Tim's, perching on the edge. They talked softly for several minutes, before the sound of footsteps worked its way into the bullpen. The couple turned.

Abby stood in the middle of the room, looking around. "Abby, what's wrong?" She turned to Tim.

"Remember that case we had last week? The arms dealer?"

"Yeah." Tim glanced at Ziva.

"Well," She made her way to his desk, putting the mail carton she carried on the desk, pushing Ziva off in the process. Glaring at the Goth, Ziva settled in Tim's lap, wrapping an arm around his neck. She narrowed her eyes at the woman. Abby ignored her, lifting out a ziploc bag of mangled pieces. "the bomb squad got a little trigger happy with the briefcase." Tim and Ziva's gazes widened at the pieces of what remained of the briefcase.

"Put it back together, Abby." The three turned as Gibbs came into the bullpen, coffee in hand.

"But Gibbs, that'll take... all day!"

"It's a cold case day, Abby. So you have the time."

"But-"

"We need to know what was in that briefcase." Without a word, Abby returned it to the carton and then turned, carrying it back to the elevator. Ziva glanced at Tim, getting off his lap. She kissed him deeply for a moment, before going to her desk and grabbing her cup. Without a word, she dashed towards the elevator, catching the doors with her hands and pulling them briefly apart before stepping inside as Tim had stood and watched.

"I thought you were going to stay up here with McGee." Abby snipped. Ziva shrugged, glancing towards her husband.

"He will not miss me if I am downstairs for a few hours. Besides, he is my husband. He belongs to me." Ziva hadn't meant it as a haughty comment, or even rubbing the fact that she was married to Tim in Abby's face, it was just a comment.

"Then why are you here?" Ziva glanced at her, and then into the carton where the bag of pieces lay.

"I figured you could use some help."

"Maybe." Abby replied, watching the lights on the elevator.

"Besides, I am quite good at puzzles." The elevator doors shut in silence, carrying the two women down to the Goth's lab.

Once the girls reached the lab, Abby set the carton on her work table and removed the bag, opening it up. She sighed. "So, where do we start?" Ziva asked, taking a sip of her coffee. The Goth turned to her. "What?"

They worked in silence for over two hours, before Abby finally asked,

"Have you really known McGee since you were six?" Ziva stopped what she was doing. She reached up, playing with her necklace.

"Yes. He is the American Ambassador's son."

"The... American Ambassador?"

Ziva looked up at her. "To Israel. Tim and I met when we were six- when my father met them at the airport and welcomed them to Israel." She sighed, becoming lost in the memory. "He was this... scrawny little boy with dirty blonde hair and green eyes in a pair of overalls and sneakers." She shook her head. "When I told him he was cute, he told me I was stupid and pulled on my pigtails, so I punched him."

Abby let out a laugh, surprised. "You're kidding!"

Ziva shook her head. "No. It took our fathers thirty minutes to separate us, and by the time they did, Tim had a black eye and I had a slim lip."

"Fat lip." Ziva cocked her head. "You had a fat lip." At Ziva's confusion, she clarified, "Your lip swelled."

"Oh. Yes." They fell into silence again, before,

"So... you and McGee have... always been together?" The Israeli nodded, returning to their work. "What was he like? Tim? As a child? And a teenager?"

Ziva sighed, thinking. "He was... rebellious as a teenager. Always getting into trouble... doing what he should not have... and as a child... he was sweet. Caring. Funny." Abby nodded; that was the man she knew, the man she'd liked for years, though he'd never given her the time of day. Now, of course, she knew why.

"Do you have any kids?"

Ziva shook her head. "No."

"Oh... are you going to?"

Ziva stopped working, thinking back on the promise Tim had made her over the weekend, as they'd been reading the The Dovekeepers. Subconsciously, she laid a hand over her stomach. He had promised her a name, for a child not yet conceived- a child not even thought of, and only mentioned in question. A child both their fathers were desperate to see conceived, for some unknown reason. She had always wanted children, but growing up in Israel- and being Mossad from the moment she was born, she knew that her chance at a family was slim to none, for there was a high probability that she would not live to see thirty.

But now that she was in America-

"Someday." She whispered, thinking of a little girl with her curls and Tim's eyes- the baby doll they used to use when they played house as children never really fit what she envisioned for their child. She sighed; her memories of carrying a doll around the house and pretending it was her baby were few and far between, but definitely there. And even after she had outgrown the game, she had still hoped- hoped for a baby she could one day call her own, that would look at her with innocent green eyes and call her 'Ima', that would call Tim 'Abba' and climb into their bed during thunderstorms or nightmares. Yes, as a child, Ziva had desperately hoped to one day become a mother-

She turned to Abby, giving the woman a small smile. "Someday, Tim and I will create our little Shirah." She then returned to the work, not noticing Abby's confusion.


	42. Chapter 42

Washington, D.C.,

Silver Spring,

2008

She lifted her head from the pillow, to find Tim sound asleep beside her. She'd woken up thanks to the cold, and shivered, pulling the blankets of their bed closer and moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She had never understood why Tim had wanted to live in D.C., when he was so used to Israel. The first time she'd ever seen snow, had been two months after she'd joined the team, and they'd gone out to dinner with Sarah. It had started to snow during the meal, and Ziva had gotten up from the table, rushing to the window to look out. Everyone in their usual restaurant had watched her, confused, until Tim and Sarah had explained that she was- like them- from Israel, and that it didn't snow in Israel. And when they'd left the restaurant and walked back to their car after making sure Sarah had left safely, Ziva had tugged him towards the park.

They'd spent the next two hours having a snowball fight, and by the time they returned to the apartment, Tim was grateful for the gas fireplace the landlord had had put in in place of the wood one when he bought and remodeled the apartment complex. They had curled up in front of the fire and read Dovekeepers, before losing interest in the book for each other.

But having been here a little over a year now, Ziva failed to see how people adapted to something so cold. Playing in it, sure. Watching it fall, sure. Having an excuse to sit in front of the fire because if it, sure? But living with the cold, constant chill in the air? No way. It was times like this when she missed Israel.

She let out a breath, pressing a kiss to her husband's warm skin before snuggling closer. Tim shifted, taking her hands in his sleep. She slowly extracted one hand, pulling it back to trail a finger along his back-

She stopped, pulling away. There was something on his back that she couldn't make out, and slowly, she backed up, studying it in the darkness.

A tattoo, the covered his shoulder.

A moment passed, as she struggled to figure out what it was, before realizing, a smile coming to her face.

It was a pair of doves, mourning doves, if she remembered correctly. They were together, heads tucked together- the meaning was clear. She brushed her fingers over the tattoo- beautiful in its simplicity- and then pressed a kiss to it, before resting her head against him, allowing his warmth to finally put her to sleep.

She was awakened four hours later by his mouth on her shoulder, and after a moment, she turned her head. Somehow, during the night, they'd switched places; she lay on her side, with his arms around her from behind, his body wrapped protectively around hers, their legs tangled together. She smiled softly as their eyes locked. "What time is it?"

"... one in the morning." Ziva moaned softly, more out of annoyance than pleasure. "Not a morning person, baby?" She shook her head. "Shame. I was going to see if you wanted to go on a run with me."

She turned to look at him. "At one in the morning?" He shrugged.

"I usually get up at about four and go-"

"Oh then, by all means, one should not make any difference." She replied, and he glared at her, pushing her into the mattress of their bed.

"Would you rather I stay in bed then?" She grinned, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"What do you think?" He kissed her then, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She pushed him off of her, straddling his waist. Grin getting wider, she leaned down. "When did you get the tattoo?"

"When did you get yours?" Their eyes locked, and she brushed a tender kiss to his jaw. "After I graduated from MIT."

She pulled away. "Why did you not say anything?" He shrugged.

"I figured you'd notice... eventually." The 'clearly it took you until just now' was loud and clear, and she glared at him. "When did you get yours?"

Ziva bit her lip. "After Tali's death. I thought my world was over when I lost my little sister... and yet, you were there for me, even though you were in America, you were still there when I needed you." She laid her head against his chest, relaxing to the sound of his heart in her ear.

"It's against your religion." She lifted her head, meeting his gaze, her dark eyes narrowed.

"I do not care about religion, Tim. If I did, I would not have married you."

"We got married in a burned out synagogue."

"So?." She countered, raising an eyebrow.

"We were six. And we were playing a game." He pointed out, and she sighed, rolling her eyes before returning to his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

Eventually, though, they decided to get up, knowing they'd have to be into work by six. They shared a quick shower, got dressed, and hurried out of the apartment, stopping for coffee at the cafe on the Navy Yard before making their way up to the bullpen. Tony had yet to arrive, as usual, and Gibbs was nowhere to be seen- though it was evident he was definitely in the building. Once they'd dropped their things at their desks, Tim pulled Ziva into the alcove by the stairs, wrapping his arms around her waist. She slid her arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his mouths met in several quick, chaste kisses before sliding into a long one-

"What have I told you two about keeping it out of the office!" They jumped apart, to find Gibbs standing behind them, blue eyes narrowed. Without a word, they hurried back to their desks.


	43. Chapter 43

"I'm working on it."

She looked up from her cooking. The weekend had rolled around, and Tim and Ziva had decided to spend a nice, quiet Saturday at home since they were off rotation- with no guarantee that they would be called in. "Working on what, baby?"

He raised an eyebrow. "My book." She started, surprised.

"Your book?" He nodded, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip. The smell of cooking shellfish wafted through the apartment. "What book?"

"The book you suggested I write? Remember?"

She thought a moment, taking the wine glass back and taking a sip. "Right. But... when we discussed it, you were not interested. And the last time we talked about it, you had not even chosen a topic."

He leaned against the counter, stirring the pasta in the boiling pan as he gathered his words. "Well I decided."

"And what did you decide on?" She asked, handing him the wine glass. He took a sip, handing it back, before,

"The _Shoah_."

Ziva choked, nearly dropping the wine glass mid-sip. When she was finally able to catch her breath, she looked up at him. "You cannot be serious, Tim!"

"I am. And it's not going to be one of those books that disputes anything and everything about it existing. It's just going to be a story about doing the right thing in horrific times. Having the courage to care."

She sighed. "Is this just an idea, or-"

"I've written a couple chapters, but that's about-"

"Can I read them?" Tim met her gaze, before stepping aside and allowing her to go to the study. She took a seat at his desk, pulling up the file he'd instructed her to, and silently, began to read.

' _"I won't hurt you. I promise." But she scooted further away- or tried to, there was nowhere to go- hugging her sister tighter to her chest. "Please." She didn't move; instead, she watched him, dark eyes drinking in every detail she could see through the darkness. After a moment, he tried again. "What's your name?"_

_In German the girl obviously hadn't used in a while, she choked out,_

_"Zahrah."_

_He furrowed a brow, confused by her pronunciation. He took a few minutes to try to get his mouth around the unfamiliar name, sounding it out slowly before,_

_"Z... Zara?" She furrowed a brow, listening to him pronounce it. "Your name is Zara?" Slowly, she nodded. "And what is her name?" The older girl glanced at her sister, before turning her gaze back to him. Her whisper barely reached his ears, but he was able to catch the name. "Eva?"_

_"Chava." He furrowed a brow._

_"Eva?" The girls shared a glance before Zahrah nodded; close enough. He gave both a small smile, before glancing over his shoulder. "Okay, come on." He quickly moved a few things that were blocking his way to the side and reached for them, but the older girl kicked out at him. "Hey, hey! I'm not trying to hurt you. I want to help." He quickly backed up, hands out in front of him, giving both girls space to follow, and after several minutes, they did. Once they were standing in front of him, he asked,_

_"Is Eva your daughter?" The older girl cocked her head, thinking, before,_

_"Schwester."_

_"Sister? She's your little sister?" The child_ _nodded, recognizing the word._ _Adrian nodded, taking a deep breath. He glanced at the sky above, guessing the time. Close to dawn; he wouldn't have much time to get home- but then his gaze drifted to the girls. Eva wrapped her arms tight around her sister's waist, face buried in her dress, but it was the older girl- Zara- who watched him with suspicion. He had to do something with them-_

_But he couldn't leave them alone, out here to fend for themselves, where they would most surely be picked up._

_After a moment, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the leaflets he'd copied from Chistophe's draft. In his head, he heard the last conversation Christophe had with him. The last words his friend ever spoke in his direction before he, Sophie and Hans been arrested and the rest had gone into hiding echoed in his head, telling him what he needed to do._

_"You must go on. If we are captured, you must get out and continue our work. Our voices have started the cry, but you need to keep it going. All of you who survive must keep fighting, must keep defying Hitler. Even the smallest ways can show him that we are not afraid. That we are willing to stand for what we believe is right."_

_He'd promised his friends that he would continue, that he would do all he could to keep what the White Rose had been- nonviolent resistance against Hitler- alive. His gaze moved over both girls as he realized what he had to do. It wasn't enough to just print a few leaflets and leave them around the city, hoping they would be read. No, words needed to be followed with actions- strong actions that clearly informed of the intention._

_These two girls- they were clearly Jews. And God only knew how they came to be in Berlin, or where they'd come from._

_They needed shelter; needed food and clean clothes, as well as a warm bed to sleep in for even a night. They needed help._

_A moment passed, before he reached out for the older girl, who stumbled back, pulling her sister with her. "No, no! I'm not going to hurt you! I want to help!" The older sister- Zara, he needed to remember her name- watched him, listening; she seemed to be translating what he was saying into whatever language was her natural one before translating back to German in her head. After a moment, she whispered,_

_"Hilfe?"_

_He nodded. "Yes. I want to help." He bit his lip. "Come with me, please." He held out a hand; Zara's eyes darted from his hand to his face and back. "I only want to help you." She glanced down at Eva, before taking a deep breath and reaching out, slowly placing his hand in hers. He gave her a soft smile before leading them out of they alley towards his bike. Thankfully, dawn had not yet come. He glanced at the girls and then down at his coat. Without a second thought, he removed first the coat- draping it gently over Eva's small body, making sure she was as covered as possible, before stripping off the lighter sweater he wore. He then turned to Zara, draping it around her shoulders. She caught his gaze, whispering something that sounded like "Tada" as she pulled the garment closer. He nodded, and then walked his bicycle out of the alley. "Stay close. Stick to the shadows and walk fast. Hurry."_

_Ever watchful, he hustled the two girls through the remaining shadows back to his home, keeping his ears peeled for any sound of them being followed.'_

When she looked up, Tim leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. He'd turned off the sauce, and waited, watching her face as she read. Tears glistened in her eyes- more for the fact that he was telling the side of history that very few knew of, the rescuers, those who put their very lives on the line for a people they didn't know or even care about- and she reached out for him, taking his hand and tugging him towards her. "It is beautiful, Tim."


	44. Chapter 44

The Navy Yard,

Washington, D.C.,

Two Weeks Later

The knife slammed into the wood, shimmying for several minutes before it stilled. Ziva turned back to the small group of agents she was instructed to teach. "Every knife has its own individual balance; the trick is finding it. When you do, you get this."

"Boss really approved this?" She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Tony, why do you keep on asking?" The senior agent snorted.

"Because they give us sigs for a reason."

Ziva yanked the knife from the board, turning to the older man, before glancing at her husband. Tim rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. "In Mossad we have a saying-"

"Knives don't run out of bullets."

The trio- for Agent Michelle Lee from Legal, who had temporarily been assigned to help Gibbs's team on a case- turned to the younger agent, who raised an eyebrow and glanced at his wife. "How would you know that, Probie?" Tony asked, and Tim gave him a look. "Right. You're married to the ninja, I forgot." Since that conversation at the restaurant nearly four weeks earlier, Tony and Tim had been on better terms, and the senior agent had even been courteous to Ziva. Quite a leap from when she'd first arrived at NCIS.

Ziva snorted softly, turning to Tim, holding the knife out to him. He took a sip of the coffee and set the cup down, joining the other two. Ziva stole a quick drink from his cup before wandering over to him. She rose onto her toes as she slid her hand down his arm, covering his hand with hers. Her other arm went around his waist, pulling him closer. "Remember, baby, you come right past your ear; once your arm is fully extended..."

He glanced at her. "I've done this before, Ziva." She raised an eyebrow, keeping her hand on his as he pulled his arm back.

"... past your ear..." He extended, as her hand moved from his waist down towards his belt and her tongue flicked to his ear- "And release-"

He threw it; instead of slicing into the wood, it clattered to the floor. "Ziva!"

She giggled, pulling away from her husband. "I am sorry, baby, did I distract you?"

He glared at her after picking the knife up from the floor. "Oh, sheket." She grinned, grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging him towards her once he returned to the crate they'd been using as a table. Their mouths met in a quick kiss before Ziva glanced over her shoulder.

"Lee."

The trio watched as the young woman tried doing what Ziva had instructed; instead of hitting the wall in front of her, it embedded itself in a crate further behind, near the elevator, missing Gibbs by inches. Ziva instantly pulled away from Tim, going to the woman. "I thought you said you grew up around weapons."

Lee turned to her. "I did. I didn't say my father actually let me touch any of them."

Ziva nodded. "Right. Gibbs, I am sorry, it is my-" But he just pulled the knife out and held it out to Ziva, saying something about a dead Marine. Before they dashed off to grab their gear, Tim picked up one of the knives left on the crate top, and threw it; it slammed into the wood, the sound of impact exploding in the quiet room. He turned to his wife after removing the knife from the wood. She grinned, reaching for his hand as they hurried to catch up with their coworkers.

Later that night, after the case finished and they were allowed to go home, Tim and Ziva curled up on the sofa with a couple glasses of wine. There was a program about Masada on that Ziva wanted to watch, and Tim was glad to curl up with her. She snuggled into his side, his arm around her shoulders, their hands linked, her other hand resting against his thigh, their fingers laced.

Ziva had grown up hearing stories of the famous siege at Masada, when nine-hundred-sixty Jews had held out for close to three months before the Romans finally breached the wall, only to find the rebels dead, preferring to face death at their own hands as opposed to slavery by the Romans. She'd listened to her Aunt Nettie's stories about walking the path that led to Herod's palace- for Nettie had been the first Israeli female archaeologist- in her time, anyway- to see Masada and bury her hands in the earth, to uncover treasures hidden for centuries.

Nettie was the one woman besides Rivka and Kathleen that had let the kids be kids instead of forcing them to grow up fast like was common in Israel. Though Tim, Ziva and their siblings had grown up fairly quickly- it was impossible not to in a place like Israel, where retaliation airstrikes from the Palestinians and months of war between the two countries was common- they had still had childhoods, surrounded by loving people and extended, surrogate family. Nettie adored the McGee siblings, looking on them as though they were her own children- for Nettie had never had children of her own.

"Do you remember seeing the thermal baths?" Ziva nodded. They had walked up the Snake Trail- the same trail the rebels may have used- and spent the day walking the palaces, listening to their tour guides explain what exactly happened during the siege; Nettie had been there, working on unearthing what appeared to be the synagogue, and she had been thrilled to see Ziva, Tim and their siblings. It had been Nettie who had taken the photograph of the five together as children, after all, not long after the Ambassador and his family had arrived in Israel; and it was Nettie, who had taken the photographs that sat on the bookcase beside the childhood portrait of the five children.

In the first photograph, the five stood in the center of the fortress, all dressed, not like tourists, but like locals- the girls in loose, Grecian style stola dresses that came down to their ankles, and pallas- a type of shawl made out of light material. Tim and Ari were wearing loose tunic tops and pants, similar to what the gypsies still wore, and they had hats as well as their sunglasses. All wore hiking boots, and carried knapsacks with water, cameras and various other things to document their visit.

And while Tali had chosen to wear her hair up, pulled back in a braid beneath her dark blue hijab- the very same scarf that would, months later, soak up the spilled blood as it poured from Tali's nose and mouth, thanks to the gash torn in her heart from a bullet- and Sarah had pulled her hair into a ponytail before covering her head with a soft, dark green palla, Ziva had left her hair down. It flowed down her back and over her shoulders, tamed only slightly by the twists that held the front of her hair away from her face, and the almost violet-colored palla that she'd draped loosely over her head and shoulders. None of the girls wore makeup, preferring to go bare thanks to the heat and wind of the trip, which gave all three an even more exotic appearance- even Sarah, whose pale skin often set her apart massively in school.

Tim and Ziva stood together, holding hands, with Tali leaning against Tim, holding tight to his free hand, and Ari and Sarah stood on Ziva's other side- only instead of being balanced on Ari's hip like she'd been as a child, Sarah leaned against Ari, head against his shoulder; he had an arm around her waist, and his other around Ziva's. With the exception of the place, time, age and clothing, the photo was almost an exact replica- one of which Ziva had been curious if Nettie had realized as she'd taken it.

In the second photograph, Tim and Ziva were alone, within the ruins of the Byzantine church, near the last remaining intact window. Tim had pulled her into his arms, the violet-colored palla she wore had slipped down the back of her head, revealing her dark hair, and she caressed his face, his own arms around her waist. The two were caught mid-kiss,with the ruins around and behind them, the blueness of the sky cut in half thanks to the window and its surviving wall. The image itself was very beautiful, in a tragic, haunting way.

"Tim?" He turned his attention back to her, tearing it away from the photos on the bookcase.

"Sorry, baby, what did you say?" She met his gaze.

"What are you thinking about?" He shrugged.

"Nothing."

She nodded, curling further into his side, pressing a kiss to the hand she held.


	45. Chapter 45

Tel Aviv,

Israel,

2009

"Zivaleh, my darling." She rushed towards the older woman sitting in the hospital bed.

"Shalom, Aunt Nettie." Ziva pressed a kiss to her aunt's cheek,squeezing her hand before stepping aside. Tim gently pushed Sarah forward, and the teenager slowly made her way towards the woman who'd looked on her and her brother as her children. Sarah quickly hugged the older woman and pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping away, curling into Ziva's side. A moment passed, before Nettie's dark eyes finally landed on Tim.

"My Timotheus, come here, darling." Silently, Tim made his way towards the older woman, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Nettie had originally studied Latin at college, until she'd discovered Archaeology and switched majors, and she always called Tim by the Latinized Biblical form of his name.

"Shalom, Auntie." As he pulled away, Nettie reached up, cradling his face in her hands. She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, smiling softly at him. They had talked to Nettie over Skype the week of Christmas, and she had been fine- but at her next doctor's appointment, after the first of the year, the doctors had found an abnormality that had turned out to be cancer.

Breast cancer.

And it was spreading fast.

Now, Nettie was bedridden, subjected to daily checkups and tests, though she still lived at home. Having never married, never had children, Eli had turned to caring for her, getting the best doctors and nurses money could buy-

Ziva had gotten the call while the team were out on a case; her father, choked up and in a panic, informing her of Nettie's condition. She, Tim and Sarah were on the next plane to Tel Aviv that night. Shepard had given them as much time as they needed off, understanding how important family was to the pair- besides, they'd both accumulated so much leave time, that they either had to take paid time off willingly or be forced to.

So they found themselves back in Israel, spending time with Nettie- talking with her, telling her stories of the cases they worked, explaining what their apartment looked like and telling her of how Sarah had gotten the lead role of Rebecca in the theater group's production of Imagine This, a musical set during the Warsaw Uprising, about a group of actors putting on a play about the Masada siege. Ziva brought out their copy of The Dovekeepers, and after they'd explained what it was about, they'd read the synopsis to Nettie; the older woman had burst into tears.

The Masada ruins had been her life, her work, the thing she had found comfort and peace in from the age of eighteen, when she'd been chosen to join Yigael Yadin's team of archaeologists to excavate Masada in sixty-three. Nettie had walked the ruins of Masada for two years, making new discoveries and helping to prove to history that such a horror did exist. Even until recently, she'd still gone to the site, conducting small excavations on her own or with a small team she often led. She had been active and healthy for years, leading excavations whenever she could find time, and suddenly...

This.

She turned to her niece, to Tim and Sarah. Nettie had looked on Tim and Sarah as her own- never having married, never having children of her own, she often allowed the McGee siblings to spend time at her apartment when they were children and their parents couldn't watch them. She had told all five children- Ziva and her siblings included- about the digs, and what it was like, to walk the Snake Trail that led to the ruins, what it was like to uncover hidden treasures; beautiful mosaics, clothing so fragile it would fall apart in your hands...

Yes, those five children had been her charges, her loves, and those whom would take her legacy.

She beckoned for them to come closer, and after a moment, each settled on the edge of her bed, waiting. Her gaze landed on Tim and Ziva, and she smiled softly. "When did you two join before God, yakiris?"

"How did you know, Aunt Nettie?" Ziva asked, settling beside Tim, who slipped an arm around her waist. The older woman gave her a small smile.

"I can see it in your eyes, Zivaleh. Tell me, when did your joining take place?" The couple shared a glance, before Ziva spoke up.

"Twenty-four years ago, in the burned out ruins of the synagogue in Be'er Sheva." And so they proceeded to tell her of the envelope Ari had left for them, and the circumstances of their marriage. Once they finished, Nettie gave them both a small smile, reaching over and taking their joined hands in hers.

"To be chosen by Adonai to join together at such a young age... it is a blessing. You were chosen for a specific purpose, a specific blessing in life. Be watchful of it, yakiris."

They talked for hours, catching up, reliving memories, and sharing funny stories, before Nettie asked to hear some from the book. The three shared a glance. It was Sarah who spoke, this time. "From... The Dovekeepers, Auntie?"

Nettie nodded. "Ken, yakiri. From the beginning, please."

And so Sarah took the novel from her brother; she sat at the head of the bed, beside Nettie, while Tim sat on the end, with Ziva nestled between his legs, her head resting on his shoulder. Tim slid his arms around her waist, holding her close. Slowly, Sarah opened the book to the first page. She glanced at her brother and sister-in-law, taking a deep breath.

"T... The Dovekeepers, a novel, by Alice Hoffman." There was the soft turning a couple pages, before, "'Part one: Summer, seventy C.E.'" She glanced at Nettie, who nodded, and Sarah again turned another page.

"There are four stories, ken?" Sarah nodded silently, before swallowing.

"Ken, Auntie."

"Whose story begins our journey to Masada, Sarit?"

"Um... 'The Assassin's Daughter'..." She took a deep breath and began reading the quote at the beginning. "'We came like doves across the desert. In a time when there was nothing but death, we were grateful for anything, and most grateful of all when we awoke another day.'" Sarah glanced at her.

Nettie smiled at her. "Continue, Sarit."

Sarah nodded, returning her gaze to the book. "'We had been wandering for so long I forgot what it was like to live within walls or sleep through the night. In that time I lost all I might have possessed if Jerusalem had not fallen: a husband, a family, a future of my own. My girlhood had disappeared in the desert. The person I'd once been vanished as I wrapped myself in white when the dust rose into were nomads, leaving behind beds and belongings, rugs and brass pots. Now our house was the house of the desert, black at night, brutally white at noon.'"

Ziva nestled against Tim, lacing their fingers together. He pressed a kiss to her head, watching Nettie as she seemed to sink into the pillows propping her up. It was almost as if she were disappearing into the pages of the book, to walk with the characters. Sarah continued.

"'They say the truest beauty is in the harshest land and that God can be found there by those with open eyes. But my eyes were closed against the shifting winds that can blind a person in an instant. Breathing itself was a miracle when the storms came whirling across the earth. The voice that arises out of the silence is something no one can imagine until it is heard. It roars when it speaks, it lies to you and convinces you, it steals from you and leaves you without a single word of comfort. Comfort cannot exist in such a place. What is brutal survives. What is cunning lives until morning.'"

Sarah stopped-

"Keep going, Sarit. There is more to tell."

"'My skin was sunburned, my hands raw. I gave in to the desert, bowing to its mighty voice. Everywhere I walked my fate walked with me, sewn to my feet with red thread. All that will ever be has already been written long before it happens. There is nothing we can do to stop it. I couldn't run in the other direction. The roads from Jerusalem led to only three places: to Rome, or to the sea, or to the desert. My people had become wanderers, as they had been at the beginning of time, cast out yet again. I followed my father out of the city because I had no choice. None of us did, if the truth be told.'"

Sarah stopped, realizing that Nettie was asleep. The soft clearing of a throat caused them to turn, and they found John and Eli standing the doorway. "There's something we need to tell you three."


	46. Chapter 46

The door to Eli's study shut softly behind them, and after a moment, the trio took seats on the sofa. "What did you want to tell us, Abba?" Ziva asked, squeezing Tim's hand, terrified of the answer. Eli made his way to the trio, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table as John wandered to the window, gaze going to the sky outside.

"Nettie wishes to go to Masada, one last time."

"What?" Ziva felt her heart constrict. There was no way- "But she... she is dying, Abba! She-"

"She would not survive the trip, let alone reaching the top of the mountain, Director." Tim cut Ziva off, and the young woman squeezed his hand, thanking him, for her throat had clogged with tears. "She would die before-"

"Timothy, that's enough!" John turned to his son, and Tim stood, turning to his father.

"Forgive me, Ambassador, but we all know that Auntie would not survive." John winced. He'd never heard either of his children refer to him by his title, and it reminded him of just how deep a tear had been forged between him and his son over the years. "Forget the trek... the heat is enough to kill-"

"Timothy, this is your aunt's final request. She has worked the earth and ruins of that fortress for forty-six years. It is in her blood, her very soul." Tenderly, John reached up, caressing his son's cheek. He studied the young man's features, seeing the tears in his son's eyes. That Nettie had been willing to take both Tim and Sarah under her wing after they first arrived- to the point that both called her 'Auntie'- well, John knew that it warmed her heart to hear such a term fall from their young lips.

"Da-"

"You would deny a dying woman her last request, Timotheus?"

The four turned, to see Nettie making her way into the study, holding tight to her nurse's arm to keep her balance. They had allowed her to go home while she waited for the cancer to take her, complete with a hospital bed and live-in nurse to take care of her. However, Nettie had made it very clear that when she finally did go, she was going to breathe her last in her own bed, surrounded by her family- the hospital bed and nurse were to go, never to be seen again. So far, the chemo and Nettie's will to live were the only things keeping her among the living.

"Of course not, Auntie, but Masada-"

"Is a part of me; it always has been, and always will be." She moved forward, letting go of the nurse; Tim rushed to her, catching the fragile woman in his arms before she hit the ground.

"Auntie, you can't travel to Masada, you would never survive-" Nettie looked up at him, reaching up to caress his cheek.

"You never know what strength a person possesses when fighting Death. I will see Masada, Timotheus, and you all shall see it with me, one final time."

Later that night, as Tim and Ziva climbed into the bed in their hotel room- for Sarah was staying with their father, and Tim and Ziva had gotten a hotel room, preferring a place to themselves over staying with their fathers- both thinking of Nettie and her request. "It's like... she wants to die there, at Masada."

"She is like Tali." Ziva whispered, quickly un-braiding her hair as she sat beside Tim among the blankets. "Tied to the past."

Tim sighed, reaching out and sliding an arm around her waist. "At least we are tied to the future."

She met his gaze, giving him a small smile, before leaning down and capturing his mouth in a soft kiss. They soon settled among the blankets, Ziva curled up on Tim's chest, tracing patterns on his skin. She sighed, pressing a kiss just above his heart. "We have to let her do this."

"We can't, Ziva. The trek out of Tel Aviv would kill her- and if not that, then the heat would get her before we even reached the base of the mountain."

"But she wants this, Tim." Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "How do we tell a dying woman no?"

He sighed, thinking. A moment passed, before he ran a hand over his face, meeting her eyes. "We don't, baby. We have no choice."

She nodded, not liking the conclusion any more than he did, but finding no way to stop her. Nettie was stubborn, and would do what she wanted, no matter who or what stood in her way. It was the David spirit, as Eli often called it; the sons, stubborn and set in their ways, the daughters wild and willing to take on anyone to get what they wanted.

Both his daughters had inherited it, as had Ari. And to some extent, both Tim and Sarah had inherited it, too.

Though, because they were the younger generation, they were more willing and open to change, just as the desert was open to the winds that carved its way across the desert's hardened, ancient skin.

Ziva lay her head back against his chest, brushing her fingers over his skin, for she'd unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it aside. She could hear the beating of his heart in her ear, keeping in perfect time with hers. To think, that soon, Nettie's would no longer be beating-

She choked on a sob, and Tim sat up, pulling her into his arms. "It is... not... fair... Nettie is a... a good woman... she has... never done wrong... and she... has this..."

He held her close, stroking her back. "I know, baby. It's not fair. Not in the slightest. But... she'll be with... with Ari soon. And... and Rivka and... Mams and... and Tali... we have to remember that... they... they will be together again... and they will be... healthy and... and young and..." He stopped, taking a deep breath, trying his hardest to be strong for Ziva's sake. Eventually, though, that strength left him, just as it had left Ziva.


	47. Chapter 47

_Southern District,_

_Israel,_

_The Ruins of Masada,_

_Two Weeks Later_

They spent their days with Nettie, talking to her and listening to her stories of the discoveries made within the ruins, sharing tea and baklava, and always, always ending with a reading from _The Dovekeepers_. So it was one hot, scalding Israeli Tuesday when Nettie called them around her bed, informing them all that she would not be much longer for this earth- for she had stopped chemotherapy, and that she was to see Masada before she went, otherwise, she'd haunt all of them until the end of time.

So that was how Tim and Ziva found themselves back within the walls of the ancient fortress with their fathers, Sarah, and Nettie. All dressed in the clothing of the peasants, Ziva kept the violet-colored _palla_ she'd bought all those years ago around her head, blocking the heat. She had brought it with her when she left Israel for America, and had brought it back to Israel when they returned.

"It is beautiful." Tim glanced at Ziva over Nettie's head; the older woman held tight to his hand as he led her around the ruins. The trio had argued with the older woman, _demanding_ that she stay home, that she return to the treatment, that she fight the cancer that would ultimately kill her, and forget this silly notion of walking among the ruins of the fortress Nettie had deemed hers. Of course, their pleas had fallen on deaf ears; Nettie was _going_ to Masada one last time, or there would be hell to pay.

"I found a mosaic here, back in sixty-eight. It was my first solo excavation; Yigael believed I was ready to lead my own excavations, even do my own solo ones. I was so nervous..."

They all listened as Nettie recounted the past, pointing out things that had been unearthed or thought to have never existed, explaining the history of the place, and how the Jewish rebels believed they would be protected within Herod's castle walls. "Herod built this, right? The one who turned Jesus away, right?" Sarah asked, brushing the dark green _palla_ she wore aside briefly. The braid she wore her hair in was falling out, clinging to the scarf. Nettie turned to her, reaching out and taking her hand.

"No, _Sarit, yakiri_. You are getting them confused. The Herod who built these palaces was the father of the man who feared Jesus of Nazareth- Herod Antipas. He believed that Jesus was John the Baptist risen from the dead. No, the man who built Masada was Herod the Great." Nettie turned to look behind them. "Could you imagine, being here when Herod the Great ruled Judea? The soldiers that had been here, keeping watch, protecting the king... or when the rebels took over, desperate to keep the Romans out... like your _dovekeepers_..."

She stopped, the dryness of the wind catching her words and clogging her throat. John and Eli shared a glance, confused, before Ziva explained the book they'd been reading to Nettie. After a moment, John went to the older woman. "Nettie," He took a deep breath. "Perhaps we should go. It's getting hotter and you-"

"No, _Iohannes_." John ignored the Latinized form of his name, slipping an arm around her waist and taking her from his son.

"You can't stand without help... it's not good for you to be out here... we need to get you back to Tel Aviv-"

"I _said no!_ " Nettie looked up at the Ambassador, a fire in her eyes like none of them had ever seen. Though she was weak, that fire still burned- she still fought for life, despite her body's desperation to be with those gone from their family. "Now take me to the synagogue." Glances passed between everyone, a thousand questions being asked and shrugged off. No one moved. Nettie turned to Tim, holding out a hand. The young agent took her hand, as she stumbled into his arms. "Take me to the synagogue, _Timotheus_. _Now._ " A moment passed, before he did as told, slipping his arm around Nettie's waist and helping her across the packed stone earth towards the steps- all that remained of the synagogue. Slowly, the others followed.

When finally they reached the steps, Tim helped Nettie settle on the top, before joining her. Ziva and Sarah were wandering about, studying the roughened stone, and Eli and John were talking softly together. Nettie sighed, reaching over to take Tim's hand. "It is very beautiful, this... crumbling palace, this... _metzadá._ " He nodded, silent. "I spent the most... remarkable years of my life within these crumbling walls, _Timotheus_."

"Do you regret it, Auntie?" Nettie turned to him. "Not having a family of your own?"

She chuckled softly, reaching up to caress his cheek. "Marriage? Children? No, _Timotheus_ , I do not. I was married to my work, and you and _Sarit_ , Zivaleh and Ari and Tali... you were my children." She reached down, taking his hand in hers, squeezing gently. "You are all my children, _yakiri_." They sat in silence for several minutes, before she turned back to him. "Do you have the book?" He furrowed a brow. "The one we have been reading?" After a moment, he pulled _The Dovekeepers_ from his bag, laying it in her lap. Gently, Nettie brushed her hands over the cover, before opening it to the first page, the dedication, reading softly,

" _'Let my burden be your burden, and yours be mine.'_ "

She met Tim's gaze, seeing the worry, the fear in those green depths. "Do not worry, my _Timotheus_ , my burden will no longer weigh me down, and none of you will be in need of carrying it, for it will no longer exist, once I pass from this world to the next. But you... you must not carry the burden of my death in your heart or soul. You and Zivaleh are meant for better things, things of more beauty than you can possibly imagine now. The only burdens you and Zivaleh shall carry will be created from _love,_ not death. Remember that, my _Timotheus_."

The others soon came, settling on the steps around her. Ziva settled on her other side, and Sarah sat at her feet, resting her head on Nettie's lap as the older woman handed the book back to Tim. John and Eli joined them, leaning against the rock columns that had once held up a ceiling no longer there. "It is your turn to read, _yakiri_. Now, where were we?"

Tim glanced at Ziva and Sarah, before opening the book to the last couple of pages. He swallowed thickly, before beginning. " _'... Shirah bled so badly after the birth she would not have survived even if the Angel of Death had not walked among us on that terrible night. We both knew this would come to pass as she drank the rue and stood over the smoke that would begin her labor. She gave her life so that Yonah would have hers. For those who say that the Witch of Moab never loved anyone, that she was selfish, concerned with her own fate alone, I can only say that she was ruined by love and delivered by it and that she left something glorious to the world, a child who loves to stand in the rain...'_ "

As Tim continued to read, Nettie's hand slowed its stroking of Sarah's hair, and her head sank further onto Ziva's shoulder. Her breathing began to slow, stalling occasionally-

"Nettie?" Ziva's voice interrupted Tim's reading, and they all looked up. "Nettie, wake up..." Her gaze met Tim's, and it was then that he realized the older woman's grip on his arm had gone limp. John rushed for assistance, and tour guides and other tourists came- including a doctor on vacation- they forced the kids away to work on the older woman, and as they frantically began CPR, Tim held Ziva tight around the waist, keeping her out of the way. Her screams for her aunt bounced off the crumbling walls of the desert fortress, echoing the screams of the dying rebels that had come, centuries before her.


	48. Chapter 48

Tel Aviv,

Israel,

A Week Later

Natural causes; in the end, the cancer hadn't claimed Nettie, but her own body.

The funeral had been small, just her family, bidding goodbye to the woman who had impacted all their lives in the smallest of ways. With Shiva beginning the day of the funeral, normal enjoyments were put on hold, as par Judaism, not that either Tim or Ziva minded; sex was the last thing on their mind. Although, according to custom, so was bathing for 'comfort'- bathing entirely in hot water. But as the water turned cold upon their skin, Ziva clung to him, her tears mixing with the cold moisture, her grief only held at bay by the strength of his arms holding her up.

They spent the next week cleaning out Nettie's apartment and getting her affairs in order. She'd left Ziva, Sarah and Tim each a substantial inheritance to be used as they wished, and left a good sum to the restoration and future excavations of Masada. The majority of her clothes had been separated and donated to various organizations, others were too worn to be donated and so tossed. When it came to her excavation tools, Ziva insisted on keeping them, and Tim selected a few of her books- ones he knew by heart, knew Nettie had absolutely loved.

The day Shiva finally ended, the trio sat together on the floor in what had been Nettie's apartment, now nothing but a hollowed skeleton awaiting a heart and brain and sinew of muscle. Ziva and Sarah held the pallas they'd been wearing the day Nettie died in their laps, the soft fabric feather-lite against their skin. They wanted one last day in Nettie's apartment, before they had to return to their temporary residences and then back to the States. No one said a word; instead, they sat in silence, holding hands.

That night, when Tim and Ziva returned to their hotel room after having dinner with Sarah, Eli and John, Ziva curled up on the bed, struggling to keep her tears to herself. She was not the type of girl to cry; she did not cry- and when she did, it was rare. She would not break down... but soon Tim's arms were around her from behind, and his lips against her head, allowing her to cry. She held tight to his hands, allowing the grief she'd tried so hard to keep to herself during Shiva finally showing through. When her tears finally stopped, she turned to him. "Do not ever leave me, Tim." She sniffled, reaching up to caress his face gently. "Promise you will always... always stay with me... that... that nothing will tear us apart."

He silenced her worries, her very fears with a kiss.

Their bodies met, guided by their desires, their longing to be back together after such a dry spell. Slowly, casually almost, they removed each others' clothing, the material falling to the covers and floor beside them. They knelt on the bed, in only their underwear, drinking in touches and caresses, mouths tasting and discovering the pleasure of something as simple as a kiss. Tim pulled her close, his hands pressing against the tattoo on her back, the skin warm beneath his palm. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers scraping gently against the mourning doves tattooed on his shoulder- such a simple tattoo, signifying them, and their union.

"I love you, baby."

She smiled softly, nudging her nose against his. "I love you, too."

Their underwear soon fell to the wayside, and Tim pushed her into the blankets. The coolness of the fresh sheets and blankets did nothing to calm the racing of her heart, only exert it as Tim balanced over her, their eyes locking. A thousand conversations passed between them in mere seconds, before Tim leaned down, catching her mouth with his. They drank deeply from each other, two dying travelers caught within the desert and finally tasting the sweetness of water after hours of wandering.

Ziva watched as he pulled away, his mouth trailing kisses down her body, his hands following slowly, drinking in every curve she possessed. How this man knew, after all these years, what pleased her and what didn't still surprised her. She thought back on her father's words, nearly two years ago-

Her husband satisfied her plenty, if not absolutely and completely. She let out a moan of pleasure, feeling his tongue flick quickly over the lips of her opening. His mouth soon returned to hers, and soon, he was buried deep within her, filling her to the very brink, his thickness settled comfortingly inside her. She dug her nails into his back, wrapping her legs tight around his waist as he pushed into her, his tongue exploring every nook and cranny of her mouth.

They soon became slick with sweat, their bodies moving together as one, the fire that burned between them becoming a wildfire about to take control and burn everything in its path. The scent of sex soon filled the air; they tasted it on each others' skin, in their kisses and felt in within their caresses. The heady odor slid over them, a second skin, keeping them focused only on each other.

She let out a moan, digging her nails deeper into his back as he drove further into her, deeper, hitting every part of her desire until she reached overload. In one swift move, they'd switched places; it took her a moment to adjust, and she shifted her hips, until she'd found a satisfying position. She soon moved down, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss as they moved together, finding the comfort they often sought in each other. Without any warning, he flipped them over, pushing further into her, moving a hand down to brush against the curls just above her opening. His long, slender fingers found the small bundle of nerves between her thighs, and he rolled it gently between his fingers, sending shock waves of pleasure along her nerve-endings, right to her very core.

When finally they screamed for each other, the sun was starting to peak over the horizon of the Aegean Sea.


	49. Chapter 49

_The Navy Yard,_

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Four Weeks Later_

"First the plague, now radiation poisoning. I'm starting to think someone really has it in for me."

"Plague?" Neither answered her, and Ziva continued to sway side to side as she leaned against the side of the van, trying to ignore Tony's voice. She, Sarah and Tim had bid farewell to Eli and John at the airport three short days ago, returning to a routine that had been established in Israel- every night, before bed, she and Tim would read a section from _The Dovekeepers_. They had read and reread it in the three weeks since Nettie's death, finding comfort in the story of the place she had loved so.

"I was there too, you know. Right by the car, along with my _wife_." Tim snipped, hands in the pockets of the standard white jumpsuit they all wore. Ziva stopped her swaying, turning to her husband.

"We _all_ were." She then returned to her swaying.

"But don't let that stop you from thinking about yourself- would you _stop_ that?" Ziva stopped, meeting her husband's gaze. A heated glance passed between the couple, before Tony interrupted.

"This isn't about me. It's about my little DiNozzo makers. They've been nuked."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, it went even higher at her husband's reply.

"I _know_."

"Do you, Tim? I mean, sure your little ninjas are gonna be smart, but my kids had a shot at being really beautiful-" Quickly, Ziva pushed herself off the car, darting between the two men as she rolled her eyes and wandered in search of any sight of Gibbs. Not that she didn't want to join in the men's conversation- she didn't- but she wasn't particularly interested in listening to Tony lament about the possibility of becoming infertile; which, for the sake of the human race, she was kind of hoping would happen. But only kind of.

"Hopefully Gibbs will bring us some good news." Both men stopped sniping at each other to turn to her, even as the sound of someone running reached their ears. Before long, Ziva watched as Abby threw herself into Tony's arms, nearly knocking him to his butt. She only vaguely listened as Abby talked.

"You guys okay?"

She shrugged at the Goth. "You tell us."

"Yeah, you're okay." All four turned as Gibbs strode towards them, arm in a sling.

Hours later, once they'd returned home, after they'd eaten dinner, the pair read from _The Dovekeepers_ for a while- a ritual that had started before Nettie's death, and continued on afterward- before going to bed, exhausted from the day. Ziva curled into Tim's arms, letting sleep and the steady rise and fall of his chest lull her to sleep. Nestled in his arms, she dreamt-

_"Ima!"_

_She turned, to see a little girl rushed towards her. On instinct, as she'd often done with Tali, she knelt down, holding out her arms. But instead of small arms wrapping around her neck, the child went through her, a ghost only able to be seen, not touched. She turned, watching the child rush towards someone-_

_"Ima?" She stood, gaze going to the woman who scooped the little girl up, settling her on her hip. The woman looked up, before coming towards her. No, it couldn't be-_

_"Shalom, my Zivaleh." Rivka stood before her, the little girl balanced on her hip, smalls arms around her neck. The child looked like she had as a child- long, dark curls, dark eyes, olive skin, only instead of the jeans and graphic t-shirts Ziva often wore as a child, she was in a dress. There was a white headband in her hair, and she had pink tennis shoes on._

_Ziva studied her mother- gone before her time, and yet, Rivka was as beautiful as the day she'd been born. Before she could open her mouth, Rivka turned, nodding for someone to join them; Ziva's heart constricted as Kathleen and Nettie soon came to Rivka's sides. The Irish beauty was dressed in what appeared to be some sort of costume, her curls teased high- for Kathleen had been an Irish dancing champion long before she married John, and Nettie looked ready to go on an excavation- she was as young and full of life now as she'd been when among the living. Slowly, Ziva forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. "Aunt Nettie? Mrs..."_

_But before she could finish, someone called out, and she turned. "Zivaleh!" She stumbled back as the person threw their arms around her._

_"T... Tali?" The woman slowly pulled away; it was indeed Tali, in the blue hijab she'd worn the day she died. And while she didn't look any older than sixteen, she had filled out, as though she'd grown up. "What... what is this place? Where am I?"_

_"Where do you think you are, Ziva?" Kathleen asked, as Ziva turned to her mother-in-law. The younger woman thought a moment, glancing around._

_"I... I am not sure. Were I to guess, I..." She turned back to them. "Heaven?"_

_Tali chuckled, pulling out of her sister's arms and taking her hands. "Oh Zivaleh, you may believe in God, but you have never believed in Heaven. Tim married a contradiction in the most blatant of terms."_

_"Now Talia, it is not nice to pick on our sister." Ziva looked up as Ari joined them; he grinned at her, no longer the hardened killer that had been set on destroying their father, but the boy she and Tim used to know._

_"Ari." Ziva threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her close before pulling away. A moment passed, before she turned back to her mother, and the child settled on her hip. "Is this..." Ziva swallowed, reaching out to touch the child, but her hand moved through the girl. "Me? When I was-"_

_Tali laughed, and Ziva turned back to her. To hear that laugh after twelve years... it brought tears to her eyes. She reached out, pulling Tali back into her arms. She held onto her little sister for several minutes, before Tali pulled away, once more taking her hands._

_"You are so silly, Zivaleh. How can that be you when you are right here?" Ziva glanced back at the child, confused, and after a moment, Tali spoke again, nodding to the girl. "She looks like you, ken, but she is not you."_

_"Then, who-" But before she could finish her question, the girl reached for her. Ziva, still holding onto one of Tali's hands, instinctively held out her arms to catch the child, only to feel the girl disappear as her small arms moved around her neck. The girl completely vanished, and Ziva's hands fell; Tali pressed their joined hands to her sister's abdomen, grinning, as Ziva caught her eye._

_"You already have her name chosen, Zivaleh."_

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up; Tim was sound asleep beside her, his arm around her waist, holding her to him. She glanced down at their joined hands, resting over her abdomen, memories of Tali holding her hand still fresh in her mind. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband's sleeping form, a small smile tugging to her lips as she leaned down and brushed a kiss to his cheek before climbing out of bed.


	50. Chapter 50

" _'For nights on end I dreamed of the child I carried. In my dream she was immersed in water, her eyes open, for water was her element, as it had been mine. If we were all to be slaughtered, and if I was to be among the dead, I wanted to make certain this child came forth before she entered the World-to-Come. That was the only way I could ensure she carried a name...'_ "

The fire crackled, giving off a warmth she had neither needed nor acknowledged. She turned another page in the book, the blankets that covered her slipping down her shoulders, giving forth a chill that mixed with the warmth that heated her skin.

" _'... I stood over the smoke so that it might open my womb...'_ " She was so absorbed in her reading, she didn't hear the footsteps come up behind her.

"Ziva?"

" _'... Despite the hour and the circumstances, I was alive, still able to give life. As time went on and the child did not appear, I was afraid that the daughter I was about to bring forth would be weak because she was so early. Tehre was a drum of panic beating at my throat...'_ " The footsteps got closer, and she turned another page.

"Ziva."

" _'... My daughter came at dawn, after many hours and much blood. Too much, pouring out of me, but it was the price to be paid for her birth. Although she was early, she wasn't weak. She cried out and my heart opened. Her eyes were gray, as her father's were. Her hair was pale, much like the feathers of the dove. We took her into the field so that we might bury the afterbirth, though the last of the almond trees had been chopped down for wood to build the wall. We thanked Ashtoreth and Adonai. I removed my cloak to stand before them, though I was exhausted, and seven days had not passed. we did not know how many days were left to us, and because of this I could not wait to name her.'_ "

Instinctively, she reached down, stroking her fingers over her abdomen. The fire crackled, sending fairies into the air before they chose to return to the ground. " _'I called her Yonah, for she had come into the world because of a message brought by a dove. My wife, my beloved, my daughter, my world.'_ " She jumped, letting out a gasp, turning to find Tim standing over her. "Tim? Baby, what are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same, Ziva." He joined her, and she wrapped the blanket around him; it shifted, showing that she was only in her tank top and underwear. He pulled her close, settling her between his legs, her back pressed against his front, his arms going around her body after taking the book and shutting it, putting it aside. He squeezed her gently, pressing a kiss to her head as they watched the flames in silence for several minutes. "It's two on a Saturday morning-"

"We do not have to go in today. We are off rotation."

"I know, and that means we can sleep in." He countered as she turned to him.

"I could not sleep." She sighed. "I do not think I will be able to."

Tim furrowed a brow, reaching up to brush a wayward curl out of her eyes. "You okay, baby? You aren't getting sick, are you?"

Ziva chuckled softly, glancing down at their hands. "No, I am not sick. Just... tired."

He pressed a kiss to her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. "If you're tired then you need to sleep. It'll do both of us good. The last few weeks have been... hell, for lack of a better word."

She shook her head. "Tim, if I lay down on that bed again, with all those blankets and pillows," She stopped, taking a deep breath.

"You'll what, baby?" He leaned around her to meet her gaze. "Ziva, what's wrong?" She sighed deeply, her gaze focused on their entwined hands as she played with his fingers, before she finally gathered the courage to look up, muttering something. He furrowed a brow. "What did you say? I couldn't hear you."

"I said, if I lay on that bed, with all those blankets and pillows around me, I will throw up."

"Perhaps you're getting too warm- and yet, you're sitting in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket, in your _underwear_." She blushed, shifting so that she faced him, her legs on either side of him, straddling his waist. She slid her hands up his chest, before cradling his face. "Ziva, I know Auntie died weeks ago, but... but this isn't healthy. You've been staying up at all hours of the night, reading, you've been eating like crazy... baby, whatever this is, it isn't healthy. You're making yourself sick-"

She just smiled, stroking her thumbs over the apples of his cheeks.

_No, baby, I am just-_

"No baby, I am not sick. I am just..." She shrugged, kissing him sweetly before, murmuring softy against his mouth, "I am just growing our baby." She returned to kissing him, her mouth crushing onto his, as she pushed herself further into his lap. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Her arms went around his neck, and she drank him in, stifling a soft moan as he pressed against her. His hands moved to caress her back, tracing up her spine for several minutes, before she grabbed his hand. Without a word, she moved his hand along her waist and then down, resting it over her womb. He pulled away to ask, but she pulled his mouth back to hers, wanting to keep her husband in the dark just a little bit longer. When they finally broke for air, she rested her forehead to his, meeting his gaze. "I am growing our baby, Tim. Our little Shirah is forming inside me as we speak."

Minutes passed in silence, as he soaked the words in. His eyes darted to her stomach and then back to her face, and she nodded, giggling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're having my... _our_..." She nodded, biting her lip. He grinned, catching her mouth in another deep kiss, before wrapping his arms tight around her. "Oh, Ziva, baby, I love you."

She pressed a kiss to his head, giggling. "I love you, too, baby."


	51. Chapter 51

Washington D.C.,

Georgetown,

Three Months Later

"You ready?"

"How do you know they will react the way we want them to, Tim?"

"Ziva, they have been nagging and nagging for this since we told them about our marriage. They'll be happy."

"But-"

"Look, I know. But we agreed to wait after that miscarriage scare you had at three months. Baby, it's passed, you're halfway through. The scare is over. Trust me, they'll be happy." He rested his hands on either side of her belly; her swell was noticeable now, as was the shift in her gait. "They have wanted a grandchild for as long as I can remember-"

The familiar ring on the laptop indicated an incoming Skype call, and after a moment, Tim pulled away from her, opening their end of the conversation. "Timothy, how are you doing?" The young agent grinned, glancing back at his wife.

"Shalom, Abba, Da." He reached behind him for Ziva's hand. "Ziva and I have something very important to tell you."

Eli and John shared a glance, watching as Ziva came to Tim's side. She leaned against him, whispering hello before slowly lifting her up and turning to the side. She glanced at the laptop, a small smile on her face. John spoke first, tears in his eyes. "Oh, Ziva... truly?" She nodded.

"Ken, Da." She whispered, resting her hands on the swell that had taken over her body.

"How far, Zivaleh?" Eli asked, unable to take his eyes off his daughter; he remembered the day Rivka had told him she was pregnant with Ziva... the joy on her face and the excitement in her voice-

"Twenty weeks, Abba." Tim replied, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist and pulling her close. "We had bit of a scare a couple months ago- which is why we kept it a secret until now, but-"

"Everything's fine, Tim?" John asked, wiping the tears off his cheeks. His son nodded.

"Yes, Da. Our baby girl is... healthy and strong and... growing as she should." He met Ziva's gaze briefly, before stealing a soft kiss and laying a hand over hers. "Nestled perfectly inside her mother."

"She? You know what you're having already?" Ziva turned to them.

"I know, that we are having a girl, Da. Do not ask me how, I just know."

"She is going to be beautiful, Zivaleh." Eli whispered; it was scary, the parallels between his last surviving child and her mother. For Rivka had also informed him of her pregnancy at twenty weeks- more because he had been gone on mission the first four months as opposed to a miscarriage scare- and she had also informed him that the child growing within her womb was their first daughter. Oh, how right she'd been.

"Abba, are you okay?" Ziva's dark eyes filled with concern, and she took a seat in the desk chair.

"I am okay, Zivaleh, just... your mother would be so proud."

They talked for close to an hour, before both Eli and John had to return to work; they parted with best wishes and promises to be there for the birth, both with tears in their eyes. After they'd signed off, Ziva swiveled the chair towards her husband. Her hands rested on her belly, stroking the sensitive skin. They had told the team a week earlier; the reactions were happy, excited even. And then Ziva's midwife had ordered Ziva to take it easy, to be careful out in the field, and so Gibbs had assigned the Israeli assassin to gathering witness statements at crime scenes and computer work, or helping Abby in her lab, where the Goth kept a firm eye on the mother-to-be. As for the apartment-

While they hated moving, they'd managed to find a nice apartment in one of the older districts in Georgetown, a nice, three-bedroom, two-bath created by the same architect. Although what both loved was the fact that everything was the same as it had been in their old apartment- the pantry, the reading nook, even the fireplace, just with an extra bath and two bedrooms. A bedroom for Sarah when she came to visit from Waverly, and the nursery for the baby. This apartment was actually closer to the Navy Yard, and the area was nice.

"You," She looked up as Tim made his way to her. He set a cup of herbal tea on the desk before her and then knelt before her, taking her hands. "Have made me the luckiest man in the world." A smile tugged at her lips, and she reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek. He caught her hand, kissing her palm, before pulling her gently from the chair, holding her close.

Eventually, they shut the door to their bedroom and stretched out on the bed, talking softly. Ziva lay propped against the pillows, having changed out of her clothes, pulling on a tank top and staying in her underwear. She pushed the tank up beneath her breasts, her fingers moving over the swell that now was her belly. Tim lay beside her, head propped on his elbow, watching her. She turned her head towards him, sighing contentedly. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just... soaking in the beautiful sight before me." Ziva raised an eyebrow. "You, without our baby growing inside you." He whispered, pushing himself up and leaning over to kiss her. He then moved down, brushing a kiss to her tummy. She reached down, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Now you listen to me, little one. Ima and I don't want another scare like you gave us two months ago. That wasn't funny- it was downright cruel. So you stay in there, and you grow strong, you hear me, Shirah?"

Ziva choked on a sob, reaching up to quickly wipe the tears away, but she wasn't quick enough. He met her gaze, but she just shook her head, and he understood, leaning close and kissing her quickly.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Easter and Pesach Sameach.

_Washington D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Three Months Later_

She pressed her fingers against her belly, receiving a sharp kick in reply; her breath caught as she saw the outline of her daughter's foot against her skin.

She did it again, to the same result.

"What are you doing?" Tim stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee and a cup of herbal tea in his hands, the tea of which he handed to her when he joined her on the bed. At thirty-two weeks, Ziva had been ordered by both Shepard and Gibbs to stay home- that was four weeks ago. She was currently thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy.

Four weeks would come up awfully quick, as Gibbs had informed her when she'd protested.

They'd cleaned the apartment, getting ready for the baby's arrival, and now, spent time just relaxing and enjoying these last four weeks with their daughter before she came into the world. "Nothing. She is not moving as much."

"That's because it's getting cramped in there. I doubt she'll move around much in the next four weeks either."

"Three."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

"Next _three_ weeks. She will be here before the fourth."

"Ziva, baby, you can't _know_ that."

She poked him in the chest. " _Ken_ , Timothy, I do. She will be here in three weeks, or I will induce her entrance into this world myself." She narrowed her eyes, pushing herself away from the pillows. He took her hands, helping her sit up. "And are you talking to me or her?"

He chuckled. "You." A sigh escaped his lips as he kissed her. "Maybe we should rethink the pet name-"

"You change that pet name, Timothy James McGee and you will be sleeping on the sofa the entire first _year_ of Shirah's life." His green eyes widened in shock, and she grinned. "Do not play surprised that I know your middle name, even when you tell everyone that you do not _have_ one."

"But... how..."

She grinned. "Go ask your sister."

He groaned, closing his eyes briefly. "Remind me to _kill_ her."

"If you killed your baby sister, then who would spoil our daughter sour?" She asked, tugging his chin close. Their lips met in a soft kiss, before he briefly pulled away.

"Rotten. Spoil her rotten."

Ziva wrinkled her nose. "Same difference. Either way she will be spoiled, _ken_?" He chuckled, sliding his arms around her waist. Their lips met again, the kiss deepening this time- the baby kicked, and they broke apart. "She has excellent timing, does she not?" Tim smiled softly at her, pressing a kiss to her head before getting up. She held out her hands.

"You're supposed to be on bed rest, baby."

Ziva glared at him. "I have been. If I stay in this bed any longer, I will go star crazy."

He sighed, taking her hands and helping her to her feet. "The term is 'stir crazy,' Ziva."

"Yes, that too." She replied, grabbing his arms as she stumbled, getting reacquainted with the ground and the weight she carried before her; once she found her balance, she rested her hands on her back, sighing. A moment passed, before she realized she could suddenly breathe easier- "Besides, I need to use the bathroom. She is pressing down on my bladder. I have been up and down at least six times in the last three hours."

Her husband chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head before pushing her gently towards the bathroom. Once she was gone, he headed back into the kitchen; a knock at the door distracted him, and he opened it to find Sarah on the other side, holding a bag. "Sarah, what- shouldn't you be in-"

"Classes were canceled; power outage, took out the entire school." She shrugged, holding the bag out. "I brought ice cream. I know Ziva's been wanting rocky road for weeks." Tim shook his head, glancing into the bag. True to her word, there were three cartons of the ice cream. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her head.

" _Toda_ , Sarah. Ziva'll love it."

The siblings made their way into the kitchen, where Tim placed the cartons into the freezer, and Sarah leaned against the counter. "So... where is your baby mama?" She held up her hands when Tim glared at her. "Sorry."

"The bathroom. Again. For the... seventh time." He replied, counting quickly in his head. Sarah chuckled.

"Baby standing on her bladder?" Her brother chuckled softly.

"Pretty much." He poured a cup of coffee, handing it to her, which she took with a smile.

"So... are you two ready? Four weeks left-"

_"Tim!"_ Sarah watched her brother dash from the kitchen; since she'd been placed on bed rest, Tim had been a wreck- to the point where both Shepard and Gibbs had ordered him to take time off, officially making his paternity leave begin a week after Ziva's maternity started. They seemed to recognize the innate fear the young agent held for his wife and their unborn child, and neither could begrudge him. So they'd brought Agents Cassidy and Lee in as TAD until the baby came.

Sarah slammed into her brother's back as he skidded to a halt in the bedroom doorway. She slowly leaned around him- even as he rushed to where Ziva sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes widened in concern. "Ziva, baby, talk to me."

The Israeli swallowed thickly, reaching for him. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off as pain grabbed her around the waist; she dug her nails into his arm, choking on a sob. "My... my water broke..." She shook her head. _"She is early, Tim. She is not supposed to be born now... she will not survive..."_

"Oh, Ziva... babies have been born in the second trimester and they've survived. With the advances in medicine today-"

"Stop talking, Sarah and go call the hospital!" The college student did as her brother demanded, rushing from the room.

_"I do not want to birth in a hospital, Tim. We decided-"_

He took her face in his hands, stopping her. "I know, but it's just a precaution. I'll call Jessa, tell her to meet us there. Everything will be okay, baby. I promise, everything will be okay." He pressed a kiss to her head.


	53. Chapter 53

Washington D.C.,

Bethesda Memorial Hospital

They had called everyone- Shepard, Gibbs and the team, Tim and Sarah's Grandmother, Penny- who was unable to return from Tibet on such short notice- and Eli and John- both of whom booked the first flight they could out of Tel Aviv. So it was ten hours later that John and Eli came rushing into the waiting room of the maternity ward at Bethesda; Sarah met them, rushing to her father.

"Daddy!" She threw her arms around his neck, struggling to keep from breaking down.

"Where's your brother, Sarah? Where's Tim?"

"With... with Ziva... she's... she's been in labor for the last ten hours... they wouldn't let me in..." She shook her head, throwing her arms around Eli when her father pulled away. "She started bleeding really badly... they stopped it, but..."

"A Cesarean?" Eli asked, his heart in his throat for his only surviving child.

Sarah shook her head. "The... the baby's... already in her birth canal... she has to push... she has no choice..."

Eli pulled the girl closer as she broke down, his mind going back to the night Ziva herself had been born. She had been born at thirty-six weeks, but at the time, the likelihood of her surviving had been slim- but she had, much to Eli's relief.

"She's only thirty-six weeks... the baby's still preterm..." Eli held the girl closer, pressing a kiss to her head. So this was history repeating itself-

Without a word, they rushed to the room Ziva had been placed in; she lay back in the bed, hooked to wires and machines that monitored both her and the baby, and Eli felt himself suffering a flashback, upon seeing his baby girl in the same horrid position as her mother. As he stepped into the room behind John and Sarah, he felt as though he were looking at Rivka again- her small body exhausted, her skin slick with sweat and her features contorted in pain. He rushed past them, going to the bed. Tim sat beside it, holding tight to Ziva's hand, and gently, Eli lay a hand on his son-in-law's shoulder. Slowly, Tim looked up, not bothering to hide the tears in his eyes. That his son-in-law was now suffering the same agony that he himself had nearly thirty years ago-

Without a word, Tim let go of Ziva's hand and embraced his father-in-law before going to John. "Abba?"

Eli turned back to his daughter, taking the seat Tim had vacated. "Zivaleh, when we got Sarit's call-" He swallowed thickly. "Are you okay?"

She grabbed his hand, squeezing. "It hurts, Abba." Tears glistened in Ziva's dark eyes. "She is not supposed to come... I am not ready..." Her words ended in a scream, and she dug her nails into her father's hand. "Oh God, make it stop... Tim... Timothy!" Eli moved aside as Tim rushed to her, taking her hand as she reached for him.

Minutes passed, before Eli found he'd stumbled out of the room, John holding tight to his arm. "Easy, Eli, easy!" He was pushed into a chair in the waiting room- not far from Ziva's room- and soon found John sitting beside him. "Hey, you okay?"

"I nearly lost her once, John. Both her and her mother... and now... now I could lose her and our granddaughter..."

"Hey, don't think like that, Eli. Ziva's strong, and so is the baby. She has her mother in her. She'll survive. They both will." They sat together in silence, finding that prayers were falling from their lips without their knowledge, unsure of how long they sat together, until Sarah came out eight hours later.

"Da? She's asking for you, for both of you. The doctor and midwife are going to have her push now."

Without a word, both men followed Sarah back into the room; Ziva was sitting up in bed, leaning back against Tim, who held her close. Their hands were entangled, and he was whispering soft words of comfort to her. The young mother's legs were spread wide, and Eli could see a good amount of blood on the blankets beneath his child's feet. Normally, Ziva would have been embarrassed to have either John or Eli see her like this- hell, even Tim- but she was in so much pain, so much indescribable pain, that she didn't care. Any scrap of modesty she'd been left with was gone, stripped bare as her labor had progressed-

"Ziva, the baby's fully crowned; I want you start pushing on the next contraction, okay?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath and bearing down when the next contraction caught her around the waist and proceeded to wring her dry. It felt as though every bone in her body was breaking, every muscle tearing, every blood vessel exploding. White exploded before her closed eyes, and she grit her teeth, digging her nails into Tim's hands. The scent of copper filled the air, and Ziva found herself whispering prayers for death- because death seemed preferable to the agony she was currently going through.

Though she believed not in Heaven, she hoped that once this finished, she would be allowed entry- for, despite the horrible things she'd done at Mossad's bidding, she had still tried to do good. She loved deeply and truly, and had found her husband after five long years apart... she had lost everyone she cared about and still, was the only one left of her siblings... and were she to lose this baby, she felt she wouldn't be able to live- it would be her fault, for not protecting their child as she grew and formed inside her-

"Push, Ziva! Harder!"

She did as instructed, completely unaware that she was following orders like the good little soldier she was. And soon, she found herself floating above herself, watching as she gave birth, as she gave that final push, expelling their daughter into the world. So much blood- too much, for her comfort. A minute passed, as she watched the midwife and doctors frantically clean the little girl, checking her heart, her lungs...

She jolted back into herself, as the strong cries of her daughter reached her ears, and looked up to find Tim staring down at her, tears in his eyes. He kissed her forehead, his voice choked with tears. "You did it, baby; she's here."


	54. Chapter 54

Shirah, like her mother before her, was born at dawn; as it crept over the horizon of Washington, D.C.

_"Shalom, katan."_

They laid the baby in her mother's arms, minutes after being born; she was still slick with birth and amniotic fluid, her journey into the world her parents lived in one fraught with pain and fear on her mother's end, not necessarily hers. The doctor and midwife had removed the caul from the top of her head, unwound the cord from around her neck, cleaned out her nose and mouth, checked her breathing and her heart- her lungs were only slightly underdeveloped, and she would need to spend only a few days in hospital- four days at least, a week at most; nothing compared to her mother, who spent three months in Tel Aviv Memorial.

She had a mop of dark curls, her skin a soft mixture of her parents' and her tiny hands were clenched into fists. Ziva counted ten tiny, perfect fingers and toes, and hoped that once her daughter's closed eyes opened, they would be green instead of brown. Her nose was a tiny stub of a thing, and despite her early arrival-

"Seven pounds, eight ounces. Perfectly healthy." Ziva looked up at the doctor, giving him a small smile before turning to the baby cradled against her breast. A moment passed, before she looked up, to find Tim looking down at them, tears drying on his cheeks.

He pressed a kiss to her head. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

She gave him a small smile, before reaching up and catching his chin, tugging until their lips met in a soft kiss.

"Timmy?" They turned to see Sarah standing back near the door, nervously wringing her hands. She'd hung back, watching with tear-filled eyes as her sister-in-law had struggled through the last eighteen hours to give birth; from what the doctors had said, it wasn't just that the baby refused to come, but something had gone wrong- either the chord had tangled or the sac hadn't fully ruptured or something- but either way, a c-section hadn't been an option, since the baby had already engaged within her birth canal. At one point during the birth, Sarah was certain they would lose both Ziva and the baby- and the thought had terrified the college student.

But now her brother smiled, beckoning for her to come forward; the blood that had come pouring from between his wife's legs was gone, cleaned up and a part of the recent past, leaving only their newborn baby girl in its wake.

Slowly, she did as told, leaning close to see the little girl cradled in Ziva's arms. The baby's eyes slowly opened, and, despite being unfocused as newborns eyes were, they managed to meet her mother's eyes, and Ziva choked on a sob as Sarah struggled to control her gasp. "Oh, Timmy, Ziva, she... she's _beautiful_." Slowly, John and Eli crept forward as well, drinking in the sight of their children, now with a child of their own. "What's her name?"

For Eli, it was as though he were seeing Rivka again, cradling their precious Ziva in her arms. The parallels between his wife and daughter were frightening-

_"Ziva."_

"Shirah." He felt fresh tears come to his eyes as he watched the baby squirm in her mother's arms. " _Abba_ , are you okay?" Eli nodded at the worry in his daughter's eyes as he went to her, pressing a kiss to her head and then to Tim's.

"Your mother would be so proud of you. They both would be." Tim gave his father-in-law a small smile, before turning to John, who opened his arms. Silently, Tim forced himself to move away from his wife, going to the older man. John embraced his son, reaching up to cradle Tim's face in his hands. He studied his son for a moment, before pressing a kiss to his cheek and turning to Ziva.

"Congratulations, Ziva, darling."

When finally they were alone, Tim returned to his place behind his wife, sliding his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her head, watching over her shoulder as the infant latched onto her mother's breast and began to nurse. It had taken the young mother a few minutes, but eventually, she'd picked up the process and now sat nursing Shirah silently. Ziva leaned back, resting her head against Tim's shoulder, drinking in the sight of their child.

" _'My daughter came at dawn, after many hours and much blood. Too much, pouring out of me, but it was the price to be paid for her birth. Although she was early, she wasn't weak. She cried out and my heart opened.'_ "

He smiled softly at her, listening as Ziva recited the familiar lines from _The Dovekeepers_ \- for they both knew the book backwards and forwards by heart now. They had read portions of it during Ziva's pregnancy, keeping up with their tradition. It brought comfort to them, that they could read about the place Nettie had spent her last hours- that, in some small, tiny way, Nettie was watching over them as their daughter grew and formed and prepared for birth.

"She's perfect, Ziva."

"She is here partially because of you, Timothy. I could not have created her without you."

He kissed her sweetly, before turning his attention back to the baby at his wife's breast. She nursed hungrily, one small hand curled against the skin, her unfocused eyes drinking everything in. When the baby finished nursing and settled down, Ziva turned, holding out the tiny bundle of joy. Tim started, surprised, before glancing down at the infant in his wife's arms. Slowly, he accepted the bundle, adjusting his hold on the baby they had created that long ago day in Israel, a week after Nettie's funeral. A moment passed before he got up, stretching his legs as he crossed the room to the window; dawn had just broken over the horizon, bathing the capital in light.

The tiny little girl fit perfectly into the crook of his arm, nestled against his chest. Now that she was clean, he could see that her hair was almost black- a mass of curls that she'd inherited from her mother, and her eyes... her eyes were a soft bluish-grey, but they would change as she grew. Her nose was a mere stub, not exactly Ziva's and not exactly his- clearly a mixture; her fingers and toes were tiny, and her skin was mix of both skin tones.

He swallowed, fresh tears in his eyes and choking his voice as he breathed his daughter's name. "Hey Shirah." He stopped, forcing himself to swallow the tears in his throat. " _Ima_ and I are so relieved to finally meet you." Her tiny arms flailed as she began to cry, and he took her small hand in his, which instantly seemed to calm the baby. Tim brushed a soft kiss to her hand, meeting his wife's eyes.


	55. Chapter 55

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_A Week Later_

Ziva brushed her hair over her shoulder, pulling it out of the way of the infant nursing at her breast. They had been allowed to bring Shirah home the day before, and had experienced their first sleepless night as parents, something neither complained about. Now though, Ziva watched her daughter nurse, the gentle tugging on her breast a familiar sensation; one she cherished, for there had been a moment during the birth that she feared she would lose this precious gift Tim had given her.

The scent of jasmine tea drew her face upward, and she smiled, accepting the mug Tim held out to her before taking a seat beside her with his own cup of coffee. She met his gaze. "What?"

Tim shook his head, his green eyes latched on the little girl at his wife's breast. "Just... can't believe she's finally here. After the scare she gave us... twice... and she's absolutely perfect."

Ziva sighed, glancing down at the baby. "She certainly is." Her teeth came out to latch onto her bottom lip, and she swallowed. "I thought... I was terrified of how you would react if we lost her... that you would be angry... that you would... hate me..."

He caught her chin, turning her back to him. "Ziva, I would never have hated you. It wouldn't have been your fault. Believe me, I'm so relieved she's here and... perfect and healthy and... but even if she hadn't been, even if something had gone wrong, or she'd have been born with something irreversible, I never would have blamed you, or hated you. Angry? Absolutely, but not at you, because it would have been out of your control." She lowered her gaze. "But as is, she's here, and she's healthy and she's strong- and growing stronger every day. We need to focus on that, not on what could have happened."

Ziva nodded, turning her attention back when the baby made a small noise; Tim watched in silence, a smile on his face as his wife removed their daughter's mouth from her nipple, switching the infant to her other side. Once the baby was latched comfortably to her mother's other breast, Ziva nodded towards the coffee table. "Where were we?"

Setting his cup on the table, Tim picked up the novel, opening it to the bookmarked page. With Shirah spending the first week after her arrival in the world in the hospital, Tim and Ziva had taken to visiting every day- they would often bring _The Dovekeepers_ , and, as they had during her pregnancy, take turns reading portions of it out loud as Ziva nursed or Tim rocked the baby girl. The soft rise and fall of their voices reading, of pages turning, even as they held her, seemed to calm the baby girl, and so they had decided to continue the tradition after she came home.

He sighed, quickly scanning the page before beginning. " _'We went into the fields, carrying our baskets. The sun beat down upon us. 'What I did at the wall, I was asked to do,' Shirah informed me as we passed beneath the lacy green shade of the almond trees. 'It wasn't love the girl asked for, merely decency.' From where they sat over their lunch in the grove, the field women stared at us, whispering, save for one, the housemaid who was still gathering pistachios for her mistress. Pale petals were falling around us, half of them bitter.'_ "

Tim glanced up as the baby shifted, curling her small hand around her mother's full breast. "I think she likes the story." Tim rolled his eyes.

"She's too young to understand what we're reading, baby."

His wife shrugged. "Even if she does not understand the story, she understands your voice, Tim."

He chuckled, leaning over to kiss her softly. " _'When the time comes and you want my help, I'll listen to you as well,' Shirah said. 'I'll do as you ask.' I blushed, confused. 'Did I ask for anything?' Shirah dumped the basket from the doves around the tallest almond tree, one that was abloom with a thousand flowers. It occurred to me that she could divine the truth even when it went unspoken.'_ "

The baby cooed against her mother's skin before she once more settled down, and Tim chuckled softly. " _'True enough,' she replied. 'You haven't.' We began the walk back to the dovecote, side by side, past the mulberry bushes with their jumbles of black berries, past the pistachio tree where the housemaid was at work, stripping the pods from the branches. I noticed the young woman did not raise her eyes to us, even though Shirah touched her shoulder in a silent greeting. 'Not yet,' she said to me.'_ "

After the baby finished nursing, Ziva laid her in her bassinet- it had once been hers, and Tali's, and Rivka's, and Nettie's, and Adara and Bracha's, Ziva's maternal grandmother and great-grandmother, passing through the women of the family as their Jewish heritage did- and returned to the kitchen, where Tim sat at the table, Sarah across from him. Since the baby had been born, his little sister had been stopping by after classes to help out with whatever they needed- cooking, cleaning, or even just adult conversation. Without a word, Ziva went to Sarah, pressing a kiss to her head before going to the living room and grabbing her tea. Tim grabbed her arm on the way back. "You okay?"

"Just going to be in the bedroom for a while, baby."

"Pumping?" Sarah asked, and Ziva glanced at her, furrowing a brow. "We're... studying lactation and the benefits a baby receives from breast milk. And... the pros and cons of a mother pumping, as opposed to just nursing." She blushed, glancing down at her cup. Ziva squeezed her husband's hand, giving the girl a small smile.

"What side are you on, _Sarit_?"

"Um... both, but... I've tended to... lean towards the... pumping side. Because... when you go back to work, you won't be able to... you know nurse and so you'll have to... pump and... can I stop talking now, please? It... it's embarrassing... and knowing that you're going to be doing that in the other room..."

"How do you think I feel? I don't have a problem with my wife _doing_ it, I have a problem with my baby sister _talking_ about it." Tim replied, and Sarah blushed, watching as Ziva gently but firmly slapped her husband on the back of the head.

"Just be grateful I do not ask _you_ to breastfeed our daughter, Timothy."

Sarah shuddered, and covered her face with her hands. "Eew. Now I'm never going to be able to get that image out of my head."

Ziva chuckled softly, leaning down and brushing a firm kiss to his lips before pulling away. Once she was gone, Tim turned back to his sister. "Just wait until it's _you_ who's doing it. That's one image I _know_ I'll never get out of my head."


	56. Chapter 56

Ziva awoke four days later to silence. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, her heart in her throat when she found Tim's side of the bed cold, and the baby monitor turned off. Quickly scrambling out of bed, she pulled on one of Tim's long-sleeved shirts to ward off the chill in the apartment and rushed across the hall to Shirah's room; her bassinet was empty. With her heart now officially trying to force its way out of her mouth, and blood pounding in her ears, she rushed through the kitchen, skidding to a stop in the doorway to the living room, to find her husband, father and father-in-law having a quiet conversation; Shirah was in her father's arms, nursing contentedly on a bottle of Ziva's milk, and all three men looked up as the wild-eyed young mother stumbled over her own feet.

"Ah, Zivaleh, you're up." Eli stood, going to his daughter and brushing a kiss to her cheek. She looked up at him, clearly surprised he and John were there, and she stumbled over her words, before looking around her father to her husband.

"I... the... monitor..."

"I'm sorry, baby." Tim stood, laying the nursing infant in her paternal grandfather's arms before going to his wife. He caught her waist, meeting her gaze. "Shirah woke me up so I got her a bottle; figured I'd let you sleep. _Da_ and _Abba_ showed up after I'd warmed up her bottle. Figured they deserved a proper meeting of their granddaughter, so I turned the monitor off she you could sleep in. I should have considered how you'd react. I'm sorry, baby, I didn't think."

She studied his face, letting his words soak in. Shirah wasn't in any harm or distress; she was fine, nursing in John's arms. Nothing catastrophic had happened to their baby girl- her father had taken good care of her, like he was supposed to; he'd turned off the monitor to allow her to catch up on the some of the sleep they were both desperately missing since Shirah's surprise arrival. Tim had been thinking of her while he took care of their baby girl and met her needs. Shirah had come first- her bottle being fixed even when he switched the monitor off to allow her mother to sleep in.

After a moment, she reached up, caressing his face. He'd just been trying to help lighten her load by taking on some of the responsibility- even though he did way more than most fathers would do with a newborn; somehow, someway, Tim managed to do tenfold, taking on many of her responsibilities along with his own, so that Ziva could have time to herself, a quiet evening reading or enjoying a hot shower, an extra hour of sleep...

She rested her forehead to his, stroking his cheeks. " _Toda_." She sighed. "I have never thanked you, for all the beautiful things you have done for me since our little girl was born."

He shrugged. "I do it because I love you, Ziva, and I love our daughter. And having you and her in my life is all the thanks I need." He kissed her firmly, before breaking it and taking her hand, pushing her towards the sofa before going into the kitchen and quickly fixing a cup of tea. When he returned, he found Ziva watching John coo softly to his granddaughter. The baby watched the Ambassador with wide eyes, not fully understanding the role this strange new man had in her short life.

"She's absolutely beautiful, Ziva. She's going to be a real beauty when she grows up."

The Israeli smiled at her father-in-law, accepting the tea her husband handed her. Shirah started to fuss, finished with her meal, and John quickly removed the bottle, accepting the burp cloth his son handed him. He managed to just get it and the baby over his shoulder in time. Ziva snorted softly into her tea, unable to hide her smile. Chuckling softly, Tim took the baby from his father, slipping into the nursery.

"Tim seems to be falling into fatherhood quite well."

Ziva nodded, sipping her tea. "He is a wonderful father."

Eli joined his daughter on the sofa, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her head. "How have you been, Zivaleh?"

She met her father's gaze. "I am... well, _Abba_. Tired. Exhausted." She sighed. "This is... harder than I ever imagined. I do not see how you and _Ima_ did it." Eli glanced at John before returning his gaze to his daughter.

"It helps if you have a good, strong partner by your side, Zivaleh, one will take part of the burden off your shoulders and place it on his own."

Ziva sighed. "Tim is... more than I could ever ask for, _Abba_. He... he does the work of ten men and he... he did everything for me when I was pregnant, even before I asked... ever since we were children in Israel, he... he took care of me. Even when we fought..."

"It's because I love you, baby." All three looked up to see Tim push himself away from the counter. He took a on Ziva's other side, sliding his hand into hers. "Always have, always will." He kissed her chastely before pulling her into his arms. "Shirah's asleep, baby monitor is back on..."

Ziva 'hmmed' softly, curling into his side. They sat in silence for several minutes, before both John and Eli bid them goodbye, promising to keep in touch. After they'd left, the pair returned to the sofa, and Tim brought out _Dovekeepers_. Ziva curled into his side, as he began to read. " _'The night had been a whirlwind. At last silence washed over us. We were slick and hot, too spent to cleanse ourselves. Now that the baby had been delivered and was bound in clean cloth, the mother grabbed for him and put him to her breast. I heard a sob and realized it came from my throat. I understood the reason Shirah had wanted me here on this night. She had divined what was inside me. She came up beside me to whisper, so no one would overhear.'_ "

Ziva felt her head droop against her husband's shoulder and she lifted her head, struggling to stay awake.

" _'Did you think you were the only lioness?' she asked now that-'_ "

Tim stopped, glancing down. His wife was curled into his lap, sound asleep, snoring.


	57. Chapter 57

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Four Months Later_

"I have become a milk bar."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Um... Ziva, I think you mean a juice bar?"

The Israeli adjusted her hold on the baby as she quickly undid the buttons of her shirt with one hand, shrugging half out of her bra before shifting the baby to her exposed side. She gently brushed her nipple against the little girl's cheek, and then expertly shifted the little girl until she was contentedly drinking from her mother's breast. Ziva carefully lowered herself into the chair across from Sarah's at the table, running a finger around the rim of her cup. "No, a _milk_ bar. This is about all I do nowadays."

Sarah rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. "Ziva, you're providing your daughter with nourishment. You're keeping her fed and healthy and..." She stopped, having run out of reasons on her list. "You're doing what a mother is supposed to."

"I have been doing what a mother is _supposed_ to from the moment she was conceived, _Sarit_. I carried her, I gave birth to her- I went through _eighteen_ hours of labor to bring her into the world and was ready to give my own life in the process. I have been doing everything for her-" She sighed. "I am sorry, I just... I am tired."

Sarah chuckled softly, reaching out to pat the young mother's hand. "You're a mother, Ziva. You're allowed to rant." She furrowed a brow. "Hasn't Timmy been helping?"

"All he does is help, Sarah." Ziva thought a moment, biting her lip. "He is... wonderful, in every way. I do not deserve a man like him, or the precious gift he gave me." She reached down, brushing a finger against her daughter's cheek. The baby watched her mother as she continued to nurse on her mother's milk.

"You deserve him more than you know, Ziva. Timmy loves you. He loves you more than life itself... always has, always will."

They both looked up as the door opened and the subject in question slipped inside, toeing off his shoes. Tim had returned to work the week before, and the exhaustion had showed clearly on his face. So much so that Gibbs, having been in the same position once before, had taken pity on the young agent and often sent him home early to be with his wife and daughter. "Hey, Sarah, what are you doing here?" His little sister kept quiet, watching as he made his way to Ziva. "Hey baby, how are you doing?" He kissed his wife quickly, before leaning down and brushing a kiss to his daughter's head.

"What are you doing home early, baby?" Tim took a seat beside his wife as Sarah quickly got him a cup of tea. He gave his sister a grateful smile, wrapping his hands around the warm mug.

"Gibbs sent me home. Told me to spend time with my wife and daughter- because before I know it, I'll 'blink and she'll be graduating high school.'" Ziva chuckled softly, reaching over and taking his hand.

Later that evening, after dinner, Ziva called Eli and spent some time catching up with him. While she was busy, Tim gave Shirah a bath. The toddler watched her father with wide eyes, the warmth of the water calming the little girl. The first few times the young parents had given the baby a bath, she'd been fussy- wary of the strange baby tub and the soap, though the water seemed to calm her. Tim assumed that it was probably because the water reminded her of being in the womb- and in all honesty, it made the most sense.

Now though, both parents were fairly confident in giving their little girl her baths alone- only calling on the other when they desperately needed help. Once the baby was clean, Tim scooped her up, holding her against the towel he'd rested over his shoulder and quickly drying her off. The little girl didn't make a sound; instead, she curled against her father's shoulder, one tiny fist in her mouth. He carried her into the nursery and quickly put her in a clean diaper before pulling on a pair of pink pajamas with a detachable hood- something Sarah had given them at the baby shower, two weeks before she'd been born. Her pajamas had little prancing white sheep on them, and the hood had soft "wool" on it, with two pink ears. Once done, Tim cradled the little girl against his shoulder and headed into the kitchen. Ziva had since hung up with her father, and was fixing a cup of herbal tea.

"Well, our little lamb's all clean." Ziva turned, giggling when she saw her daughter in the pajamas- she'd seen the baby in them before, but they always made her smile. She reached out for the baby girl, taking her into her arms and cradling her against her chest.

"Are you all clean? Did _Abba_ give you a bath?" The baby watched her mother, before she began to whimper, feeling her mother's full breast against her cheek. Tim sighed.

"No sweetheart, it's time for b-"

But Ziva reached out, taking her husband's hand. "It is okay."

"Ziva, she can easily nurse from a bottle as she can from your breast-"

"Tim, it is okay. I am her mother; it is my job. I do not mind. I just... there are days when I get frustrated."

"If you ever need me to do anything-"

"I know, baby, and I take you up on your offer more than I should." She kissed him quickly, before undoing her blouse and shrugging out of her bra. She then guided their daughter's mouth to her breast, soon feeling the familiar gentle tugging as her daughter drank hungrily. Ziva met her husband's gaze. "You know, I would not be completely opposed to having another."

His mouth dropped in shock and it took him a moment to recover. "M... maybe we should... wait and see if we like _this_ _one_ before we try for _another_ , Ziva."

She smirked. "Try? Who said anything about trying? If we had not been using protection from sixteen on, we would have twenty children by now, baby. There will be no need for us to try."


	58. Chapter 58

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel,_

_2010_

She laid her hands against her back, studying her reflection in the mirror- it was definitely there.

The swell of her abdomen.

She took a deep breath, brushing her fingers over the small mound, thinking back on what had gotten her into this predicament for the second time in a row.

Celebration that Tim's book had finally been published. After the small get together at the bar the team often met at after a difficult case, they'd returned home, had a couple more glasses of wine, made love...

And here she was, the first physical signs of their second child growing within her.

Didn't matter if there would be barely fifteen months between Shirah and this one; if their calculations were correct, she'd give birth mid-two-thousand-eleven- if she was right. So far, she was fairly accurate; it helped that both their doctor and midwife agreed.

She turned as the door opened and Tim stuck his head in. "Hey, you aren't dressed. We're supposed to meet _Da_ and _Abba_ at the restaurant. Sarah's already there."

A smile tugged at her features as he came to her; the heather-grey of his suit brought out the green in his eyes. She reached out, and he came to her, resting his hands on her belly. "How will they react, Tim? When they find out we are having another? That I am... already twenty weeks... we have not even told Sarah-"

"It's our choice, who we tell and when, Ziva."

She sighed. "I... I know, but... we got pregnant again when Shirah was... seven months old. She is eleven months now... they can do the math, Tim."

"And why should that bother you, baby? This is our life, our child growing in you. Not theirs. They're our fathers... besides, they have been wanting grandchildren for years- they'll be happy. Don't worry." She nodded, kissing him quickly before getting dressed.

They had come to Tel Aviv for a visit; Sarah had also flown over, and they were spending time with both Eli and John- mainly because John had been diagnosed with terminal cancer; though he had been in remission for only a couple months, it still worried the McGee siblings, and so Tim and Ziva had decided to give them the good news tonight over dinner. Make however long John had filled with joy and the prospect of a new grandchild.

Once they reached the restaurant, Ziva went to first her father and then John, pressing a kiss to each cheek. Shirah reached for Eli, and the Mossad director took the little girl, pressing a kiss to her head. However, it was as Ziva was pulling away from hugging John that her father-in-law met her gaze. She grinned, knowing that he'd felt the swell of her belly beneath her dress.

"Oh, Ziva, sweetheart, that's wonderful. How far?"

"Twenty weeks." Ziva replied, pulling away after the second hug and going to her father.

"You two have a habit of sharing this kind of news at twenty weeks. You notice that?" Sarah asked, going to her brother and wrapping him in a hug.

By the time dinner ended and they'd returned to their hotel room, tucking Shirah into bed, Tim was exhausted, but Ziva was full of energy. He sighed as she tugged him off the sofa and into her arms, having turned the music on on their laptop. "It's those second trimester hormones, isn't it?" He asked, wrapping his arms tight around her waist as they swayed to the music.

She giggled. "You are recognizing them now."

"Of course I am, baby. You had this much, if not more, energy when you were this far in your first pregnancy."

"Yes, well, enjoy it, Timothy. Because before you know it, I will be as round as a bowling ball and unable to see my feet, and it will be _your_ fault."

He rolled his eyes. "You said it was my fault when you told _me_ you were pregnant, Ziva."

"I know. I did not mean it, you know that, Timothy?" He nodded. "Good, because I would hate for you to be mad at me for something we did together."

Tim chuckled, spinning her out and then back in. "Yes, well, if I remember correctly, we both had more than enough fun making Shirah... and even more fun making this one." She leaned back against his chest, giggling as his breath tickled her ear.

"If we have this much fun, we should make more."

Tim's arms slid around her waist, holding her to him as his mouth found the dip between her shoulder and neck, and he grunted softly in reply. She rested her hands against his, tangling their fingers together before moving his hands lower. She let out a soft gasp as his fingers slid between her thighs, brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs-

She soon found herself laying on the bed, stripped of her clothing, her entire body bare and exposed before him. Their mouths met in deep, hot kisses, and after a moment, she shifted onto her side; it wasn't good for the mother-to-be to be lying on her back during sex- something about hitting a major nerve or artery, not that Ziva remembered what the nerve was. He soon slipped into her vaginally from behind; their legs tangled and she slid an arm up to caress his head as their mouths met. Over the course of the night, they spent time switching places- it was easier and more enjoyable for Ziva to be on top, where she could control the pace and depth, and when she tired of that, she didn't object to Tim pulling her into his lap or spooning around her. When they finally screamed each others' names and let the sweat cool on their skin, Ziva nudged her nose against his.

"We should do that again."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Maybe tomorrow, baby. I have a feeling we woke the neighbors."

He was right- the banging and shouts for quiet began not five minutes later.


	59. Chapter 59

_Bethesda Memorial,_

_Three Months Later_

She grabbed onto the railing of the bed, forcing herself to take deep breaths; her nails dug into the metal, leaving scratches on the underside. What the fuck was with her and her babies being born at thirty-six weeks? Was this some defect on her part, or Tim's?

_"Do... not... touch me... Timothy."_ She ground out, meeting his gaze as he stopped, hand reaching out to brush the hair from her forehead. She pulled her knees to her chest, reaching out when the contraction grabbed her hard around the waist and twisted; the hand holding onto the bar shot out, grabbing her husband's and squeezing. Her short, blunt nails cut straight to the bone, and he yelped in surprise. " _I am... so... sorry... I... hurt you... poor... baby..._ " She lay her head back, gasping for air. _"It is not like... I am trying... to push a... small human being... the size of a... watermelon... out of me... oh God!"_

She lay back against the bed, having returned to her back so their midwife could check her progress. "Ziva, I want you to hold still, okay?"

" _... please... let me... let me push... I need to get it out..._ " She whimpered as their midwife pushed her legs further apart. She felt around for several minutes, glancing at the doctor.

"What is it? What's wrong?" The worry in Tim's voice caused Ziva to lift her head. Jessa, their midwife, sighed, pulling away from Ziva.

"Is something wrong with our baby?" Tears began to gather in the Israeli's eyes, and Tim pulled her close.

"The baby's fine."

" _But_?" Tim filled in. Jessa bit her lip.

"But Ziva's water hasn't broken yet. However, she's fully dialated and in transition, so hopefully by the time she begins pushing, her water will have broken-"

" _Get to the point, Jessa!_ " Tim snapped.

"I can either break her water now, or wait until it breaks on its own-"

Ziva let out a groan, squeezing Tim's hand as she felt something within her tear, followed by a rush of liquid. "You were... saying, Jessa?" Ziva choked out, gritting her teeth.

Ten hours later- for she'd been in labor for four- Ziva found herself sitting up in bed, leaning back against Tim, who sat behind her, allowing her to relax against him. She dug her nails into his hand, her legs spread wide. This baby, much like Shirah nearly a year ago, was taking its time entering the world, much to the jargon of its mother.

_"Never... again, Timothy. I am... never... having another... of your children... again..."_ She groaned, laying her head back. " _Oh, God, it burns..._ "

"The baby's crowning, Ziva-"

" _I know the baby is crowning, Jessa! I have done this before, remember?_ " She took a deep breath, struggling to control her breathing, her temper, her massive desire to castrate her beloved husband then and there-

"Easy... easy, Ziva. Don't push, or you'll tear."

" _I do not care! I want it out! Get it out of me! Gut me if you have to, just get it out!_ " She lay back against Tim, closing her eyes.

Shirah's birth had been difficult-

_"Ziva. Zivaleh, sweetheart, wake up."_

_Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and she looked up. "Ima?" Rivka smiled down at her, her fingers working through her daughter's hair._

_"How are you doing, Zivaleh?"_

_The young officer took a deep breath. "I have never been in more pain-"_

_"Childbirth is difficult in general. Even more so when the babe is born in the caul." She turned, to find Kathleen sitting beside her mother, legs pulled under her._

_"Mrs.-" She stopped, something Kathleen said nagging at her. "Caul?"_

_Kathleen nodded, taking a deep breath. "Timothy was born in the caul. He was... one of the rare cases."_

_"Rare?"_

_"They call them cocoon babes. Where the caul encases them completely. My Timothy was one o' them." She bit her lip._

_"He was full term?" Kathleen met her daughter-in-law's gaze, and with a quick shake of her head,_

_"No. Three months early. John and I nearly los' 'im." She swallowed. "He was so tiny... 'twas not meant to happen a second time, and certainly not a third."_

_"I do not understand."_

_"Ziva," She turned back to her mother. "You do know that Shirah was born with a caul. It ended at her forehead."_

_The young woman shook her head. "No, I... I know I had trouble birthing her, I... but Shirah has nothing to do with this baby-" She turned to Kathleen. "What are you not telling me?" Her gaze shot back to her mother. "What are either of you not telling me?"_

_But all Rivka did was lay her hand against her daughter's cheek. "Ziva, when I tell you to push, you push."_

Her eyes opened, her mother's words echoing in her head; they were soon, however, replaced with Jessa's voice. "When I tell you to push, you push. _Ziva!_ Are we clear?" She nodded, looking up at Tim.

"A caul." He furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"You... you were born in a caul-" Tim opened his mouth, and promptly shut it again.

"I-"

_"Ziva, push!"_ He helped her sit up.

"You... you were three months premature- you were born in the caul-"

_"Ziva, you have to push, now!"_

She tried to keep talking, to explain what Kathleen had told her, but her body took control, cutting off her words and doubling her over as she bore down. She held tight to Tim's hands, digging her nails in until they cut to the bone; her eyes snapped shut, a range of hot, white lights exploding behind her eyelids. She let out a scream, primal and animalistic in nature, the pain cutting to her core. Her legs parted even further- and the taste of blood soon filled her mouth as her teeth sliced into her tongue.

_"Timothy!"_


	60. Chapter 60

There were no cries, just the rush of blood in her ears, and the slow motion as Jessa worked frantically on something between Ziva's parted legs.

And suddenly, the sound returned; a thousand times louder than it should have been, and she watched as Jessa lifted a screaming newborn into her arms, one covered with amnionic fluid and a head of dark hair. She laid the baby on Ziva's chest, and the young mother looked down, drinking in the sight of the infant in her arms. Tim slid his arms around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her head. Jessa met their gazes, removing her gloves. "She's fine."

"She?" Tim choked out, and Jessa nodded.

"I hope you weren't hoping for a little boy, Tim, because Ziva just gave you another beautiful little girl."

He shook his head. "Just as... as long as they're healthy, that's all I care about."

Jessa pulled the stool she'd been sitting on over and took a seat. "Other than being cocooned, she's perfectly healthy. Might have to spend... a couple days in hospital, but nothing major."

"Wait, what do you mean 'cocooned'?"

Ziva bit her lip, Kathleen's words in her head. _'They call them cocoon babes- where the caul encases them completely.'_

"The caul."

Tim turned to her. "What?"

"Where the... the membrane encases the baby either.. partially or entirely."

"How do you know that, Ziva?" She swallowed, shaking her head.

"The caul was said to bring good luck in medieval times. It was considered an omen that the baby born with it was destined for greatness and it was thought that possessing a caul would keep the bearer from drowning- making it a sailor's talisman. It is also said that babies born with a caul or en-caul have the... gift of second sight, or the ability to travel between worlds. Silly superstitious nonsense of course, but one can't help but wonder if perhaps it's true." Jessa glanced at Tim. "You said you work for NCIS, Tim?" They both nodded. "And... how do you do around water?"

Tim swallowed. "I... don't mind the beach but... you've never get me out on a boat." The midwife nodded, a knowing glint in her eye. She then turned back to the baby in Ziva's arms.

Jessa nodded. "In this case, the sac had partially ruptured while Ziva was in labor. Other than that, she's fine- eight pounds, ten ounces. She may have come early, but she's not tiny. Just a pound bigger than her sister." She turned her gaze back to the baby in question as Ziva guided the infant's mouth to her breast; a couple minutes passed as the baby struggled to latch on, unused to such a new sensation outside of her mother's womb, but finally, she managed to latch on, taking her mother's whole areola into her mouth. Once she was nursing contentedly at Ziva's breast, Jessa continued, moving to grab the clipboard off the tray. She clicked the pen, glancing at them. "We just need her name."

The pair shared a glance. "Yonah."

The midwife stopped, pen poised. "You mean Yonina." Being half-Jewish herself; the granddaughter of Palestinian Jews who had fled Palestine in nineteen-fifty with their ten-year-old twins during the unrest beginning between it and their the newly created neighbor, Israel, Jessa had put herself through midwifery school at eighteen; her husband was an American of German descent, and the head obstetrician at Bethesda. Despite not liking doctors, Andreas was the only doctor Ziva trusted to care for her and her children.

Ziva shook her head. "No. Yonah. It means-"

"I know what it means, Ziva," Jessa replied softly. "It means 'dove' in Hebrew. But either spelling... it's the same meaning. One is just masculine, the other feminine."

Two hours later, after Jessa had left, a knock sounded on the door. Eli and John stuck their heads in; Shirah clung tight to Eli's shoulders. "Can we come in?" Ziva gave her father a small smile.

"Come meet your new granddaughter."

When they got close enough, Shirah launched herself at her mother; Tim just managed to catch the toddler before she face-planted into her mother's shoulder, and after a moment of trying to contain the squirming little girl, Tim managed to get his oldest to settle down. The toddler watched the baby at her mother's breast with wide, curious green-grey eyes; for her eyes hadn't turned completely green, and most likely wouldn't until she got older. A moment passed, as Shirah turned to her father, a frown on her small features.

"This is your little sister, Shiraleh." Tim whispered, taking his daughter's hand and pressing a kiss to her small knuckles. "This is Yonah."

The little girl tried to get her mouth around the name, before finally giving up and turning back to her father, a frown exceedingly similar to one her mother often wore in regard to Tony on her small face. " _Akhyot_?" Tim nodded; since they spoke both Hebrew and English at home, the little girl was growing up speaking both languages.

" _Ken_ , sweetheart. She's your sister." The child turned back the baby her mother's arms. She made a face at the baby before sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry, clearly displeased with the arrival of her baby sister. _"Shirah!"_ She winced at the sharpness of her father's tone, and leaned back again him, crossing her arms as she glared at the new baby. As Eli and Tim tried to get the little girl to stop pouting- because though she was silent, it was clear she was throwing a temper tantrum, just as her mother used to do- Ziva turned back to the baby.

The infant continued to nurse hungrily at her mother's breast, her unfocused eyes settling on Ziva's face. After she finished nursing, Ziva held the baby girl out to John, who glanced at his son. Tim nodded. Slowly, John made his way to his daughter-in-law, accepting the little girl into his arms. She shifted, unfamiliar with the man holding her. "I know that you have Welsh as well as Irish on your side of the family, _Da_ , so... her middle name is Si _â_ n- for Jeanne, which is the French form of John so..." She stopped, when he took a deep, shaky breath.

" _Da_ , do you... approve?" Tim whispered, having finally gotten Shirah to calm down; the girl had wrapped her arms around her father's neck, and though she wasn't pouting, she clearly directed a glare at the baby in John's arms before climbing out of her father's lap and going to her mother. Ziva wrapped an arm around her oldest daughter, pressing a kiss to her head.

John looked up at his son, tears in his eyes. "Of course, Timothy, why... why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "It's just... we don't know when or if we're going to have another, and..." He stopped, tears in his eyes. A moment passed, before he excused himself; John quickly laid the baby in Eli's arms, before going after his son. He found Tim in the waiting room of the maternity ward, and after a moment, took a seat beside him, reaching out to pat his knee.

"Timothy, I don't know if I can ever thank you for..."

"You can thank us by..." Tim took a deep breath. "By staying. By living to see the girls... graduate high school and college and... get married."

"It doesn't work like that, son, you know that. Otherwise your mother would be here now, fussing over both your beautiful girls."

Tim nodded, struggling to keep his emotions in check; though with the day he'd had, it was a battle he was losing. "I'm not ready to lose you, too, _Da._ "

John reached up, taking his son's face in his hands. "Oh, Timothy. I'm not ready to leave either you or Sarah, or Ziva or those beautiful babies you two created. Or Eli even." He chuckled softly. "I have so much to see, so many birthdays and anniversaries to attend... but if I had to go tomorrow... knowing that I got to be here, to witness your girls coming into the world, knowing that I got to hold them in my arms as I once held you and Sarah... were I to go tomorrow, I would die happy, because I would have spent my last moments with our family, and because I know your mother is waiting for me on the other side." Gently, he brushed the tears off his son's cheeks. "I'm so proud of you, Tim. I'm so proud of the man you've become."


	61. Chapter 61

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Ten Months Later_

Sarah hesitated, hand poised to knock. It wasn't that she didn't want to interrupt, it was what she might be _interrupting_ that had her pause.

"I told you _not_ to bother your sister, and what do you do? You _bother_ her!"

_"No!"_

Slowly, Sarah pushed the door open, poking her head in. "Hey. Everything okay?" The scene she walked into was one she recognized all too well; both she and Tim been on the receiving end of their father's glare more than once as children. A quick glance around the bookcase showed Shirah sitting on the cushioned reading nook in the study, a definite pout on her tiny features, small arms crossed over her chest. Having just turned two, Tim and Ziva were discovering that the 'terrible twos' were more than just a saying; they were very, _very_ real. Sarah could hear Tim in the kitchen, cleaning something up off the floor; clearly, something had gotten broken in the course of the ensuing argument. "Um, Timmy?"

" _Si-si!_ " Shirah moved to climb off the nook and rush to her aunt when her father appeared near the bookcase.

"You climb off that reading nook, Shirah Kathleen, and you're gonna _regret it_!"

"What's going on?"

"Yoni is teething, and Shirah took her teething ring away." Sarah turned as Ziva came into the living room, the ten-month-old balanced her hip. Though on her birth certificate her name was 'Yonah', her parents and everyone close to her called the baby girl 'Yoni'; at ten months, she was a fairly calm baby, much like her sister had been at that age, with dark curls, grey-green eyes, and the same tiny stub of a nose- the only difference was the girls' personalities. While Shirah was very wild and rambunctious, Yonah was calm and relaxed- Eli had taken to calling his granddaughters fire and water; where Shirah's personality burned hot and rampant, Yonah's flowed cool and leisurely. And even though neither girl realized it now- because both were far too young- they would need each other, would come to depend on each other as sisters did.

Tim moved past his sister, catching her hand and squeezing gently before heading into the kitchen. He caught his wife around the waist briefly, tugging her to him and kissing her tenderly before he returned to the kitchen and the broken coffee mug. Once he was gone, Ziva turned to her sister-in-law, going to her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey Yoni, how are you baby dove?" The ten-month-old squealed, reaching for Sarah, who took her as Ziva brushed a kiss to the soft spot on her youngest daughter's head before making her way to the study.

She took a seat across from Shirah, who sat back against the wall, tears in her eyes. While both Tim and Ziva had hoped that having the girls born so close together would help Shirah transition from an only to an older sister, things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. From the moment Yonah had been born, Tim and Ziva's focus had been on readjusting to having a new baby back at the apartment- they hadn't fully neglected the young girl, but Shirah hadn't been getting the attention from her parents that she was used to, and so saw it as the baby's fault, simply for being born.

So in retaliation for Yonah coming into their lives- even though both Tim and Ziva had included Shirah in the pregnancy as much as they could- taking her to the appointments, letting her help get the nursery ready, teaching her the proper way to hold a baby, and explaining in great detail that just because their attention would be on the baby for the first few months after she was born, didn't mean that they loved Shirah any less. They loved her so much that that love had just spilled over, and that she'd needed a little sister to help contain it all.

Shirah hadn't taken it that way. From the moment Yonah had been born, she'd seen the baby as competition for her parents' affections, a rival for her aunt's time, and an interloper- taking over her place in both of her grandfathers' hearts, and the team's company. But perhaps Yonah had become the biggest threat to Shirah's place in her parents' hearts- at two years old, the little girl didn't understand why her parents had- in her eyes- pushed her aside.

"Shiraleh." Slowly, the girl looked up at her mother, the tears in her eyes dripping onto her cheeks. "We love you, _katan_. And we love Yoni, but that does not mean you can take things that do not belong to you. That was Yoni's ring; it did not have your name on it." She sighed, scooting closer and pulling the little girl onto her lap. "Look, just because Yoni came into the frame, it does _not_ mean that _Abba_ and I love you _any less_ than we did when you came into our lives. You have a very special importance to both _Abba_ and I."

The little girl looked up at her. _"Ma?"_

Ziva chuckled at the simple question; the little girl had picked up her mother's language fast, much faster than her husband- but that could be because the little girl was part Israeli by birth, and not a 'transplant' like her father, as Ziva liked to joke. _"You_ ," Ziva gently tapped the little girl's chest. "Are our first. You are the first baby we ever had; the first baby _Abba_ and I created. And that, makes you very special." She tapped Shirah's nose, making the little girl giggle.

She looked up, seeing Sarah standing in the 'doorway', two cups in her hands. She joined her sister-in-law, holding one out to Ziva, and taking a sip of hers. "Dethronement?" Ziva furrowed a brow, confused. "Alfred Adler theorized that when the second child is born, the first feels a sense of dethronement, because she is no longer the main object of her parents' affection. They may see the new sibling as a rival for their parents' love. But they grow out of it, with time." Shirah curled into her mother's side, and Ziva pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, as Sarah reached over, tickling her niece.


	62. Chapter 62

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Ten Months Later_

_2012_

She stretched, rolling onto her stomach to face her husband. Tim was lying on his side, head propped on his elbow, reading silently to himself. Ziva didn't even need to see the cover to know it was _The Dovekeepers_. "Read it to me." He looked up, meeting her gaze. "Read it to me, baby."

A moment passed, before he glanced down at the paragraph he was on. " _'Our people believe that the world is split in two. One the side of goodness are the malachim, the thousand angels of light. On the side of evil there are mazzikim, demons who are uncountable and unknowable, uncontrolled by the Almighty's wishes. Your father was both combined. We made camp in the mountains, above the pass that overlooked the King's Road from Damascus. Your father did not think twice before he swooped us down with his men upon a caravan to take what he wanted, but he was shy with children and kind to our mother. Though he was a warrior, he could become flustered in the presence of our mother and hardly knew what to say to her.'_ "

Ziva listened to her husband, the soft lilting of his voice as he read, even as she heard the small feet rush into the bedroom and clamber onto the bed. " _Abba_!" Shirah crawled towards her father, curling into his chest as he continued reading. However, he stopped when the little girl settled against him, resting her head on his arm; Yonah crawled towards Ziva, clambering onto her back, something Ziva instantly stopped when she sat up, pulling the toddler into her lap.

Tim glanced at his wife, and Ziva nodded. " _'His eyes burned when he gazed at her, and he often sent everyone from our tent so he could be with her, even in daylight hours. He had other wives who lived in a far valley, women whose names we never heard spoken aloud. Perhaps he loved them, too. Surely he could not look at them the way he gazed at our mother. She was his favorite. Because of this, we were safe with him.'_ "

A moment passed, before Ziva gently shifted the twenty-month-old out of her lap, slipping out of the bed and towards the restroom. Tim stopped reading, watching her intently until the door closed. When she finally returned, she was wiping her mouth and had pushed her tank top up just slightly. Her hands moved over the swell that was her now her midsection, and she gave her husband a small smile, climbing back into the bed.

Tim, however, closed the book and set it aside, pulling Ziva into his arms. He kissed her soundly, one hand moving to caress her stomach. He chuckled softly, pulling away. "Fifteen and twenty must be magic numbers for us."

She furrowed a brow. "What do you mean, Tim?"

He glanced down at the girls, who had curled against their father while she'd been in the bathroom. "We had Shirah, and then got pregnant with Yoni when Shiraleh was fifteen months old; we got pregnant with this little one when Yoni was fifteen months... and we told... _Da_ and _Abba_ about all three at twenty weeks."

She thought a moment, furrowing a brow. "I never thought of it like that."

Two hours later, after the girls had eaten breakfast and were in the living room rolling a ball, Tim returned to the bedroom; Ziva had slipped into the bathroom. He leaned against the door once he slipped inside, watching through the steam as his wife stood before the mirror, turning this way and that, studying her figure. She had started showing at five weeks this time, though she looked closer to seven months along than nearly five.

"You can stop staring. I can see for myself that I am the size of a house; I do not need you pointing out how wide my abdomen has grown." She glanced at him over her shoulder.

He moved away from the door, making his way towards her. "I'm not staring at you because of your size, Ziva, I'm staring at you because of your beauty."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Timothy, I am huge. There is nothing beautiful about this."

He pulled her close. "Everything about this is beautiful. You are carrying our child, Ziva. Do you know how amazing that is?" She huffed. "And... that I get watch this happen, that I get to... lay my hand on this beautiful swell and feel our baby move and kick and stretch beneath your skin... this is more beautiful than a thousand star-filled nights."

She sighed, reaching up and caressing his face. "You... I do not know what I did to deserve such a wonderful man like you."

He kissed her softly, before leaving to check on the girls. Once he was gone, Ziva stepped beneath the shower head, letting the warm water rain over her skin. She quickly brushed her hair out of her eyes, before running her hands down her body. They stopped first at her breasts- her breasts had grown, the areolas becoming darker and bigger as her body prepared for the upcoming birth. Gone was the flat-chested little girl Tim had called stupid, whose pigtails he'd pulled, and who'd punched him in return. And she was no longer the jealous teenager, trying to stake her claim on her best friend, even while he was with Deena-

Yes, things had changed and changed quickly, and the two little girls in the living room, as well as the one she now cradled within her belly, were proof of that. She swallowed; she was used to the familiar feel of such a weight up front, having gone through it twice before, but that wasn't what worried her. What worried her was the birth. Jessa and Andreas had placed her on bed rest a week ago, hoping to avoid another early labor. But with Ziva's track record for delivering her babies early-

She took a deep breath, casting the thoughts aside and returning to her shower.


	63. Chapter 63

_Bethesda Memorial,_

_Three Months Later_

She pulled her knees to her chest, wanting nothing more than to slit herself open and remove the reason behind all this pain then and there.

_"No more, Ziva! Do you hear me? No more babies! We're not going to go through this again!"_

She shook her head, casting her husband's words aside. "But I want to give you a son-"

He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Not at the cost of your life, baby. We'll adopt a little boy if we have to, but you are _not_ carrying it."

She choked on a sob, pulling away from him and laying her head back against the pillows. Every part of her body from her chest down burned, a burning red poker thrusting its way through her body, hitting every nerve and muscle within reach. She slammed her eyes shut, trying to rely on her breathing, on the beat of her heart and the familiar cues her own body now knew by heart. She could hear voices in the background- Jessa and Andreas, Tim and Sarah and _Da_ and _Abba_... and somewhere, behind the closing door in the recesses of the waiting room, Gibbs and Jenny and the rest of their team.

She never should have done this; with her history, an early birth was to be expected. That she would actually carry a baby to full term... once more, at thirty-six weeks, she'd gone into labor; this time the tearing of her amniotic sac accompanied by blood- by the time they'd gotten to the hospital, she had dilated completely and the baby had engaged, already crowning by the time they got her up to the maternity ward. Now in the ever-lovely process of birthing, Ziva was desperate to push, and unwilling to listen to her husband. She wanted a son, and it didn't matter if it killed her- literally- she was going to give Tim a son.

Her husband had other ideas. He settled behind her once she'd sat up, pulling her closer. She rested her head against his shoulder, gulping in air.

"I want... a son... you need a son... Tim."

"We're not having this discussion, Ziva. Not now. Not ever."

"But-"

_"No!_ We are not discussing the possibility of another child while you're delivering our third. It's _not going to happen_."

She took a deep breath, following her body's orders. "Easy, Ziva. Breathe." She did as told, returning her head to Tim's shoulder. Her eyes closed briefly, and she barely noticed Jessa remove the cord from the baby's neck.

_"You do not belong here, Zivaleh."_

_She shifted onto her back, stretching. Her dark eyes snapped open to find Tali leaning over her, dressed in the blue shirt and overalls she wore in the photograph of them as children; instead of her blue hijab, she wore Ziva's violet-colored palla over her shoulders, clinging to the back of her head. She watched her older sister with dark eyes, all the wisdom of the world reflected in those dark depths._

_"Where are we?" Ziva sat up; her gaze quickly darted around; they sat beneath what appeared to be an almond tree, in the middle of a lush, green field, the blossoms fluttering to the ground like dancers entering from the wings._

_"Masada." She turned back to Tali, confused._

_"But... why?"_

_"Because you have dreamt of it; you have immersed yourself in it. Reading that book night after night, even after you finish you go back and read it again-"_

_"It is a beautiful novel, Tali, you would have loved-"_

_"I know all about it, Ziva." Their gazes locked. "I have met the women you read about- they go about living their lives, with no fear of the Romans on the other side of that wall."_

_"This is... Heaven."_

_Tali shrugged. "For some, yes. For others, a return to the life they left behind. For you..." She stopped, studying her sister as she stood, reaching up to pluck a blossom from the branch. And then she knelt down, until they were face to face. "This is not your home, Zivaleh. Your home is with Tim, and Sarah and your babies."_

_She shook her head. "Da is dying, Tali-"_

_"I know. Mrs. McGee is keeping watch at the gate for him. She is... she is eager for his return to her. She realizes the mistakes he made, and accepts them as a flaw brought on by his ties to the earth. She forgave him long ago, Ziva. She has been waiting for him. She wants him home."_

_"And I want you home, Tali. And Ima... and Ari... I want to be with you."_

_Her sister shook her head. "No." She grabbed her sister's chin, forcing them to meet eyes. "You... do not... belong here, Ziva. You are not ready."_

_"You were not ready either!" She cried, pulling away. "And you were taken at sixteen! How is that fair?"_

_"I was ready." Tali whispered, brushing the tears off her sister's cheeks. "I was ready long before the bombing. I knew I would not live past seventeen." She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. "I saw my death in the coffee I spilled the weekend before. It spread over the counter, but only a single drop hit the floor. It was red, not brown." She sighed, meeting her sister's gaze. "It was my turn. It is not yours. You have many years before you, waiting to be lived, a husband that needs to you love him, two beautiful little girls to raise, and a baby to birth. You cannot stay here. He will not allow it. You need to go back."_

_"Tali-"_

_Her sister leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before brushing a firm one against her cheek. The blossom fell from her hand, fluttering in the wind before it landed on Ziva's stomach. She pulled away, crying out as pain grabbed her around the abdomen and proceeded to rip her in two. Blood began to quickly spread where the blossom had landed, and Ziva reached down, wrapping her arms around her midsection._

_"Tali, please-"_

_"Go back, Ziva. You need to go back. Follow the light through the blossoms, she will help you." Her sister let out a scream as the pain got worse; blood soon soaked her legs and thighs, and she began to shake. "Nahara will take you home, Ziva. She is waiting for you, waiting for you to hold her and kiss her and love her. She is not going to be denied entrance into the world, and your resistance is only making her more impatient! The bonnet she bears has already foretold the future she will face, you need to let it happen. Second sight is in Tim's family and the connection between the worlds is within ours. Your three girls are destined for great things, Zivaleh; they are as much ninjas as Tony believes you to be." Ziva grabbed her sister's wrist, the pain white and hot behind her eyes. Tali leaned back down, brushing her nose against her sister's. "You need to let her come, Zivaleh." She pressed a kiss to her older sister's nose. "I love you."_

A scream escaped her throat, and she soon collapsed back against her husband, the cries of a healthy newborn reaching her ears. She shook violently, suddenly terribly cold, exhausted beyond belief and unsure of what she'd witnessed. Tim pressed a kiss to her head; she could feel his tears as they slipped into her hair, and she squeezed his hand firmly, letting him know she was okay, her gaze never leaving the screaming newborn in Jessa's arms. She watched as Jessa quickly and expertly removed the caul from her daughter's head, before holding the baby out to her.

As the infant was laid on her chest, she thought back on Tali's words. _The light through the blossoms._

_Light._

Slowly, she released her hold on Tim's hand, brushing her fingers against the baby's sensitive skin. Her touch instantly calmed the baby, and her cries quieted, replaced with a contentment as she lay against her mother's skin, the skin-to-skin contact calming not only her, but her mother as well. Ziva glanced at Jessa, before returning her gaze to the baby on her chest. Tali had given her one characteristic she couldn't ignore.

_She._

Swallowing slowly, Ziva studied the baby she now held, realizing Tali had done it on purpose. In a voice rough from exhaustion and choked with tears, she breathed,

" _Shalom_... Nahara."


	64. Chapter 64

Three daughters.

Tim had given her three daughters.

Three beautiful little girls, fifteen months apart in conception, only a couple years apart in age... all born with a caul in some shape or form.

"Seven pounds, eight ounces. A perfectly normal weight for a baby of her gestation. She only needs to stay a couple days and then you can take her home."

Ziva looked up, not having been listening. She was too busy studying the newborn in her embrace. She had listened as Jessa explained that it was common to be as big as she had been for a third pregnancy, that it had been her body, used to something it had gone through twice before; she had listened as Jessa explained yet again that the caul had been draped over their daughter's eyes, that she was healthy and strong, and absolutely perfect for being born four weeks before she was due. She had listened until the very end, when she'd asked about other children.

It wasn't possible. For some reason, her body appeared to be rejecting the babes she carried- putting up with them until thirty-six weeks, when it suddenly turned on the tiny human beings growing within her. The long, difficult labors, painful childbirths were the power struggle- between her body's desire to suddenly destroy the babes within its care and allow them to live by expelling them into the world.

There would be no other children, no sons with Tim's green eyes and easy-going smile.

Nahara would be their last.

She would have her tubes tied when Nahara was old enough; there was no reason for a complete hysterectomy, a denial of such intimate pleasure, just the possibility of another conception. It would be no problem; Rivka herself had had her tubes tied after Tali had been born- the same problem, as unexplained then as now. Clearly, this ran in Ziva's family-

"I wanted a son."

Tim pressed a kiss to her head, pulling her closer. "I don't care about a son, Ziva. If you want a son so badly, we'll adopt-"

"No." She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "I wanted _your_ son. Not someone else's."

He turned his gaze to the baby in her arms; the little girl looked exactly like her sisters had at birth- a mass of dark curls and the same soft mixture of her parents' skin tones; that tiny snub nose and her mother's cupid bow mouth. She nursed at her mother's breast, completely unaware of the turmoil raging within her mother's heart. Once the door shut softly behind Jessa and Andreas, Sarah spoke.

"Well, at least you won't have to have the surgery right away. You just have to be careful until you can get it done."

Ziva slowly lifted her head, meeting her sister-in-law's gaze. "I wanted a son. I wanted to give your brother a son, and now I will never be able to."

A moment passed, before Sarah moved to the place Tim had vacated when he slipped out of the room to get the girls and let the team know about the birth. "Ziva, Timmy doesn't care if you have a son or not. He loves his girls, because they're yours. All he cares about is that you and your babies are healthy."

Cries of excitement and congratulations soon caused both women to look up as the team followed Tim, Eli and John into the room. Tim held Yoni on his hip, her short dark curls held back with a white headband, and Shirah was holding tight to her both her grandfathers' hands. Before they knew it, the team had gathered around the bed, eager to see the newest edition to the family. Eli lifted Shirah onto the bed; the little girl curled into Sarah's lap, silent, and Yonah held tight to her father's neck, watching the new baby their mother held with the same wide grey-green eyes her older sister possessed.

"Girls, we want you to meet your baby sister, Nahara."

Shirah studied the baby silently, her tiny nose wrinkling as she turned to her father. "Another?"

" _Ken_." Tim shifted Yonah into Abby's arms- she didn't last, because Tony stole her quickly away, settling the toddler on his hip. The senior agent loved Shirah, but Yonah was his _piccolo amore_ , and he spoiled the little girl rotten, which was fine, because Abby had quickly claimed Shirah as hers- saying that, as the oldest of Gibbs's "children" she had claim to the oldest of Tim and Ziva's girls. Either way, both girls were spoiled rotten beyond belief- something Tim and Ziva frowned on, not that they'd be able to stop it if they tried.

_"Lama?"_

Tim sighed, reaching down and taking Shirah into his arms. "Because _Ima_ and I wanted another baby. We wanted three beautiful little girls, and now we have them. And that does _not mean_ that we love either you or Yoni _any less_ than we love Nahara. There is plenty-" He met Shirah's gaze for several minutes, before turning to Yonah. " _plenty_ of love and space for _all three_ of you in our hearts. Okay?" Both girls nodded. "So when we bring Nahara home, there will be no problems, there will be no acting out, no stealing, no fighting, no _temper tantrums_." He turned back to Shirah, who shrank in on herself slightly. "You girls are Nahara's big sisters, it's up to _both_ of you to help _Ima_ and I take care of her, _especially_ in these next few months. Are we clear?"

The girls nodded, and Tim pressed a kiss to Shirah's head.

Once Nahara finished nursing, Ziva shifted the little girl, holding her so that she could look down at the baby; she counted all ten fingers and toes- tiny and perfect, like her sisters' had been- and looked up when Shirah crawled towards her. The little girl glanced at her mother, and Ziva nodded. Carefully, Shirah knelt down, brushing a kiss to Nahara's head.

" _Nayim mayod, akhyot_."


	65. Chapter 65

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Two Weeks Later_

At twenty-four months, Yoni was quickly showing giving her older sister a run for her money. Shirah had been clingy, she had suffered separation anxiety when forced to be away from her parents, but nothing like Yonah. The year-and-a-half-old was terrified when either Tim or Ziva left, or even when Shirah went anywhere; she clung to her older sister like a spiderweb, bursting into tears whenever someone tried to take her away for any reason. For her part, the three-and-a-half-year-old didn't begrudge Yonah's reactions; she helped look after the little girl when her parents were taking care of the baby, or if one was busy with the baby and one was busy with something else in the apartment.

They had since moved to a bigger apartment- built by the same architect- in the same historic part of Georgetown, and had managed to settle in a couple weeks before Nahara was born. Shirah had developed a love of elephants- neither of her parents knew how or why, because the girl had never been interested in the zoo, and had never been to a circus- and slept with a stuffed purple elephant that Abby got her for her third birthday; Shirah had promptly named the animal _Brogan Nollaig_ \- Irish for "shoe Christmas", the 'Christmas' they understood, because it was something to McGee siblings often wished each other over the holidays, but the 'shoe' was a complete mystery. The little girl's room was decked out in mauve, and she had a small dollhouse that Gibbs had made for her in the corner, near the window, beside her reading nook and desk.

As for Yonah's room, the two-year-old little girl liked teal, and so had various shades of the color in her room; she also had a small dollhouse in her room- another one of Gibbs's creations, a set of three, which he'd made for Tim and Ziva before Shirah had been born. Yonah, unlike her sister, who loved elephants, preferred doves. There was a nest outside her window, belonging to a pair of doves, and the toddler had quickly adopted them as her pets- Dror and Zipporah quickly became Yoni's secret keepers; though she was only two, the child would climb onto the reading nook by her window and watch the birds through the window, babbling to the fowl through the small crack of the raised window. Both her parents found it strange that their middle daughter had two 'pet' birds named "sparrow" and "bird", but neither said anything to the little girl, allowing her her enjoyment.

So that Saturday afternoon, as Ziva sat on the sofa, legs folded beneath her, Nahara nursing contentedly at her breast, she looked up, to find both her girls watching with wide, curious grey-green eyes. Ziva glanced towards the kitchen, but Tim had left that morning to help Sarah as she moved from her dorm into her own apartment; she and her roommate had had some sort of blowup and Sarah had requested transfer to another room, but with the dorms filled for the semester, the graduate student had instead turned to apartment hunting. With her older brother's help, she'd found a small apartment on the other side of Georgetown, close to Waverly- Tim, Tony, and the rest of the team had volunteered to help her move. So Tim had slipped out of bed about seven that morning, fed Nahara a bottle and changed her, and then let Ziva know where he'd be, that the baby was taken care of, and that he'd be back around two or so with lunch for all of them.

That left Ziva with some much needed alone time with her girls; Shirah lifted Yoni onto the sofa and then climbed up beside her, leaning over her little sister to watch the baby nurse, eyes wide with curiosity. "What are you doing, _Ima_?"

Ziva glanced down at the baby curled against her breast, biting her lip. "I... I am feeding her."

Shirah furrowed a brow. "How?"

_Oh, boy._ Ziva sighed. _Why did you not cover up? You always cover up when you nurse-_

But if Ziva were honest with herself, she only covered up when she was out in public or they had company over that wasn't family. Sarah didn't care, and both Da and Abba had watched both their wives nurse, so when they came down to visit, it didn't bother them to see her nurse, and Tim- Tim didn't care if she covered up or not. It was a beautiful process and she shouldn't be ashamed of it, as he often told her. She wasn't- Ziva wasn't ashamed of anything, really- but being caught by her older daughters certainly threw a crimp in her day.

"When a..." She bit her lip. "When a mommy has a baby... the baby cannot eat solid food; their tummies are not ready for solid food, so they drink milk."

Yoni had curled against her side, chin resting gently against Ziva's other breast, watching Nahara as intently as she watched the doves outside her window, and Shirah had stretched out on her stomach, head propped in her hands.

"Milk that we get from the store?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, _katan_. Babies need a special kind of milk." She could see the wheels turn in her daughter's head; Shirah had inherited Tim's brilliant mind, his love of classic literature and the cold; though she was a little under four-years-old, she spoke as though she were six or seven or even eight. She listened to every word her parents said and practiced them, watching in the mirror the way her mouth formed around the words. Insanely curious about everything, Shirah often followed her father around the house, asking question after question, and throwing a fit when her father gave only one or two word answers. She wanted long, lengthy responses, with words she'd never heard before so she could practice them, and topics she found interesting. The girl pushed herself up, climbing off the sofa and rushing into the kitchen. She came back minutes later with a small glass, which she handed to her mother. "What is that for, _katan_?"

"Chocolate milk. You said special milk. Chocolate milk is special."

Ziva chuckled softly, handing the glass back to her oldest daughter. "It is special, but that is not the kind of milk babies need. They need a milk only mommies can give them." Shirah's face fell; she'd tried to help her mother- "Split that with your sister."

"But _Abba_ -" They had a rule in the house that chocolate milk was only allowed every once and a while, much like candy or soda or cookies and cake. Ziva smiled softly.

"I will not tell _Abba_." Without a word, Shirah went back to the kitchen and divided the glass, handing one to Yoni when she returned and climbed back onto the sofa. Ziva, expecting that to be the end of the conversation, couldn't say she wasn't surprised when Shirah asked,

"Where does the milk come from?"

Ziva sighed, suddenly wishing Tim would walk through the door.


	66. Chapter 66

_Washington, D.C.,_

_The Navy Yard,_

_2014_

"I do not understand it."

"Understand what, Momma Mossad?" He yipped as Ziva threw a wad of paper at his head. From the desk diagonal to Tony's, Tim chuckled, watching as his wife sat back in her chair, headphones partially on. She was watching a video taken during a weekend backyard football game in which a marine, just back from duty, had dropped dead. Come to find out, Abby's findings had produced poison- now, all they needed to do was figure out _who_ and _why_.

Ziva removed her headphones, turning to Tony. "Why do you call it football if you do not use your _feet_?"

The men shared a glance. Good point.

"Well, occasionally, we kick the ball." Tim rolled his eyes at his partner's reply, picking up his cup and taking a sip. Gibbs was currently downstairs with Fornell- for the FBI had gotten involved, thanks to the files that had been taken from the house at some point during the game, pertaining to sensitive... to be honest, at that point, all three had zoned out on Fornell's explanation.

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Well, I have watched this video multiple times, and have found nothing. Would either of you care to try?"

Not passing up the chance to watch a game of football, Tony accepted, taking the footage and returning to his desk and the elevators on both sides opened. Gibbs and Fornell appeared from the back; Sarah and the girls from the front. _"Ima!"_

Ziva looked up as Shirah and Yoni came rushing towards her desk, both girls had tears in their eyes; Sarah had Nahara balanced on her hip, the two-year-old curled into her side. "Hey _katans_ , what are you-" Ziva got up, kneeling before her children as the girls rushed into her arms. "What is wrong?"

Tim was on his feet immediately. "Sarah?" His sister turned to him, tears in her eyes.

"The Embassy called, Timmy. It's _Da_."

There was a moment of panic as Tim's heart leapt into his throat, and after several minutes of arguing about flying arrangements, Jenny- who'd been listening at the catwalk as she oversaw her agency- offered to lend the family the services of the Navy. She made a quick call the SecNav, explaining the situation, and upon hearing that it was Ambassador McGee, Secretary Davenport- who knew John and Kathleen well- offered his services.

So it was two short hours later that Tim, Sarah and Ziva found themselves back in Tel Aviv. Tim sat in the waiting room, hand in his hands. Sarah and Eli had taken the girls down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, leaving the couple to themselves. When they'd asked about John, he was being looked at by doctors, and none of them had been allowed in.

Ziva took a seat beside her husband, sliding a hand along his arm and into his palm, lacing their fingers together. "He will be okay, baby."

He turned to her, eyes glistening with tears. "No, Ziva, he won't be. How can you think that? How can you possibly-"

"Because he will be with your mother." She replied, reaching up and taking his face in her hands. He wants to be with your mother. She is waiting for him, she has forgiven him for what he did with Orli, and she wants him to come home."

_"He is home!"_ Tim cried, trying to pull away, but Ziva tightened her hold. She rested her forehead to his, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks.

"No, baby, he is dying. He is not home. Home is with your mother, just as home for me is with you."

"Mr. McGee?" The pair broke apart, and Tim was instantly on his feet. They heard Sarah and Eli return with the girls, but Tim's gaze was focused on the doctor. "You can see him now." They thanked him and then, silently, made their way into the room. Tim stopped in the doorway, forcing the others to move around him. Ziva slipped her her hand into his, squeezing gently and tugging him towards the bed; his father's eyes were closed, and he was pale.

" _Saba!_ " Shirah rushed towards the bed, Yoni following closely behind, as Nahara whimpered to get down.

"There are my darlings." The girls climbed onto the bed as Sarah and Ziva rushed to stop them, but John held up a hand. "Come here, my darlings." Undeterred by the state of their grandfather, both girls pressed sloppy kisses to his cheeks, and after a moment, Eli set Nahara on the bed; the toddler crawled towards John, who smiled, taking the baby into his arms. "They're beautiful." He turned his head, towards his children. "No... kiss for your father?" Sarah went to the bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and after a moment, Ziva gently pushed Tim forward. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to John's cheek, quickly pulling away as Ziva did the same. The Ambassador caught her hand as she straightened.

They gathered around, talking softly with him, sharing stories and listening as he talked. The girls curled up against their grandfather's sides, telling him stories of what they'd done over the weekend, and what it was like to fly in the Secretary of the Navy's airplane.

"When are you going to come to D.C., again, _Saba_?" The conversation stopped as everyone turned to Shirah, who was playing with John's fingers. Sarah and Tim shared glances, and after a moment, Ziva got up, perching on the edge of the bed. She took the nearly-six-year-old into her lap, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

" _Saba... Saba_ will not be able to come back to D.C., _katan_."

Shirah looked up at her, confused. "Why not?" Her mother took a deep breath, glancing towards her father-in-law.

"Because... _Savta_ is waiting for him."

"Who is _Savta_?" Ziva licked her lips. How did she explain this- death- to a six-year-old, let alone a four and a two year old?

"You have two _Savta_ s, one _Abba_ 's side and one on mine. And... both... both are... both are in a... a very beautiful place... with..." She sniffled, feeling the bed shift on both sides and Eli and Sarah joined them; only Tim stayed back, silent, as he listened to his wife. "With lots of... pretty flowers and... trees and grass and... and they are... happy and healthy and young and..." She brushed her fingers through Shirah's hair as she cradled the girl on her lap. "And they watch over us from the mountaintop, and make sure that we stay safe."

"Angels?" Yonah asked, from her place on Sarah's lap. Ziva smiled softly.

"Kind of, _katan_. They do not have wings."

"Then how can they be angels if they have no wings?" Shirah asked, looking up at her mother.

"They do not need wings, Shiraleh. They protect us with spells and wishes."

"Like the book?"

Sarah chuckled, realizing the little girl was equating heaven with _The Dovekeepers_. "Kind of, sweetie."

Ziva pressed a kiss to her oldest daughter's forehead. " _Savta_ Kathleen is waiting for _Saba_ John. She misses him, and wants to be with him, more than anything."


	67. Chapter 67

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel,_

_Two Days Later_

His eyes slowly opened, and he found his children sitting on either side of him, holding tight to his hands. Eli and Ziva had taken the girls to the cafeteria, giving the siblings some alone time with their father. It upset both of them to see John so weak, tied to a bed by wires and machines, his body weak and ravaged by the cancer that was stealing him away from them. He was no longer the man who used to dance in the kitchen with Sarah balanced on the tops of his shoes, or had taught Tim how to drive on the streets of Tel Aviv- he was a mere shell of the man he'd once been.

"We're sorry, _Da_." Sarah choked out as John reached up, resting a hand on top of each of his children's heads. "For everything we did when we were younger. We _dinna_ mean _t'_ -"

He met his daughter's gaze, brushing the tears from her eyes. " _Nothin' t'_ apologize for, _Sarit_." He whispered. " _Nothin'_ either you need _t'_ apologize for."

Tim held tight to his father's hand, resting his forehead against the old, gnarled knuckles, struggling to control his tears. "I... I graduate in June, _Da_. You... you have _t'_ be there _t'_ see me. And... _t'_ walk me down _th'_ aisle when I meet the man I'm _gonna_ marry-" Sarah took a deep breath. "And... and Timmy... his babies... they're _growin'_ up and you... you have _t'_ be there _t'_ watch them..." She quickly wiped at her nose. "Ziva can't have anymore. She had... tubal ligation after Nara turned a year old... there are gonna be no more babies for her or Timmy, but you have to be there to tell them stories and... and you have to be there when I have _my_ babies... _Da, please..."_

Neither heard the door open, nor did they notice Eli and Ziva slip into the shadows with the girls. The girls kept silent, hearing the fear in their aunt's voice; Shirah looked up at her mother, and Ziva scooped the six-year-old into her arms as Yoni grabbed onto her leg.

Tim hadn't said a word- what did he say to the man who'd raised him? To the man who'd loved him, no matter what stupid stunts he'd pulled as a teenager? Sure, John had yelled at him when he found out about the acceptance from MIT, and he'd expressed doubt when Tim and Ziva had told them of the circumstances of their marriage, before accepting it; he'd been overjoyed when they'd told him of Ziva's pregnancy with Shirah, and had been there for the births of all three of Tim's girls. He'd asked for forgiveness from both his children when the affair with Orli had come out, and eventually, both had come around, seeing him as merely a man- not the superhero they had thought he was when they were children.

John turned to his son, squeezing his son's hand. "You have your mother's eyes."

Tim took a deep breath, closing his eyes and pressing a firm kiss to his father's hand. _"Da, please, don't go..."_

"Your _Mams_ is waiting for me, darlings..."

Sarah shook her head. _"No! You need to stay here!"_

John glanced at his daughter, a cloud of confusion in his green eyes. "Kathleen." He let go of Sarah's hand, caressing her face. "What has taken you so long? I have been ready to go for weeks."

_"No, Daddy. I'm not Mams! Mams is dead! I'm Sarah! Your daughter, remember? Sarah!"_

_"Stop it, Sarah!"_ Tim snapped, looking up at his sister. She turned to him.

_"You don't want him to go either, Timmy!"_

He bit his tongue, resting his forehead to is father's hand again; his shoulders began to shake, and he struggled to keep from breaking down. Yoni moved to go to her father, but Eli grabbed his granddaughter's arm.

"No... kiss... your..." Silently, Tim did as told, brushing a quick kiss to his father's lips before resting his forehead to John's cheek. Sarah choked on a sob, before doing the same and pulling away. Satisfied, John brushed his fingers against Tim's cheek. "When's... baby due?"

Tim shook his head. "No, _Da_. No more babies. Just our three girls. Remember my girls? The babies Ziva and I created? Shirah and Yonah and... and Nahara? Remember them, _Da_?"

"Beautiful... babies."

Tim nodded. "They are. They're the most beautiful babies I ever laid eyes on-"

"Timothy... Sarah..." He turned back to Sarah. "We made... beautiful babies... Kathleen..."

Sarah clenched her jaw, turning from him. She shook her head, pulling away. _"You are supposed to stay, Daddy!"_

"Kathleen..."

_"I'm not Kathleen! I'm not Mams! Mams is dead! Remember? You have to stay! You have to meet my babies! Be at my wedding! See me graduate! You are supposed_ _to walk me down the aisle... and celebrate Timmy's birthday and go to your granddaughters' recitals and plays and be at Ziva's citizenship ceremony and celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah and Passover and..._ "

_"Damn it, Sarah, stop it!"_ She turned to her brother, tears streaming down her face. _"Just stop!"_ John's breathing was getting slower, his heart beginning to slow. His grip on his children's hands began to loosen, and Tim tightened his hold. " _No, Da... no, you stay. You hear me? You stay! You don't have permission to die! I didn't_ _give you permission, Sarah didn't give you permission! No one gave you permission! You..."_ He broke down then. _"You have to be here... to spoil my daughters and... and disapprove of Sarah's fiance when she finally finds one... you have birthdays to celebrate and weddings and graduations to attend and..."_ He took a deep breath. _"You... can't... go..."_

The monitors began to scream, drowning out Tim's sobs and Sarah's screams.


	68. Chapter 68

_Tel Aviv,_

_Israel,_

_Three Days Later_

The funeral had been quiet, simple, just family and a few close friends. John has asked to be buried in Israel- the country that had been his home since nineteen-eighty-five. His wife's grave was Ground Zero- now the reflecting pools that had been built to honor and remember the victims- and One World Trade Center, the building that had replaced the demolished Twin Towers. Either way, John and Kathleen would meet in Heaven, for she had been waiting for him, from the moment of his diagnosis.

Tim and Sarah stood close together, holding tightly to each others' hands, the last reminder of their father, and part of the legacy of the legacy he left behind. With _Shiva_ having begun from the moment the funeral ended, Ziva knew that this next week would be difficult; not only for the girls, who didn't fully understand what had happened, but also for her husband and sister-in-law. She just wasn't aware of _how_ difficult it would be.

They returned to the Embassy after the funeral, closing the door to their father's office- for they were to clean his things before the reading of John's will- the fireworks began, exploding between the siblings. Kathleen had been the one that often managed to get them both to shut up while John often separated them- but with their mother gone now nearly thirteen years, there was no one to reign either sibling in. And neither Tim nor Sarah would listen to Ziva, and while they both feared Eli to a certain extent, neither cared enough to keep their mouth shut.

Screaming, yelling, arguing- the fights between Ziva, Ari and Tali were tame compared to this. They ended with Tim storming out, heading for the back patio area, Sarah hot on his heels. And Ziva chasing after them both, the girls safe with her father. She found her husband and sister-in-law going at each other on the patio, screaming at each other, placing blame where neither deserved it, accusing the other of not caring enough about their father-

At one point, Sarah managed to shove her brother against the wall, drawing the knife from his belt- for Gibbs's rules were as ingrained as the color of Tim's eyes was etched into his DNA. She held the knife to his throat, her hand shaking. She met his gaze, and after a moment, the knife clattered to the ground; her arms going around his neck as his arms slipped around her waist. Tim slid to the ground, taking Sarah with him; she curled into his lap, face buried in his neck. Ziva watched, hand on the door handle, debating. Their children needed her, but her husband needed her too. And Sarah... her last remaining sister needed her as much as Tim did. A moment passed, before she went back inside, deciding to leave the siblings to themselves; clearly, they were trapped in their grief, and needed to work this out on their own, without her interfering.

Later that night, when Tim slipped into bed, Ziva reached for him. She pressed herself against him, taking her face in his hands and kissing him soundly- he pushed her away. Ziva understood, really, she did; the customs of Shiva were strong, and even though Tim hadn't been raised _in_ the Jewish faith, he'd been raised _around_ it the majority of his life-

"Shh, shh, baby. It is okay. It will be okay, baby. I am here. I am not going anywhere. Our babies and I... we will be right here." He buried his face in her shoulder, his arms going tight around her waist. Her heart broke at his sobs, and Ziva tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing a kiss to his head as she stroked her fingers through his sandy locks. She hummed a prayer, stroking his back as she slipped her arm around his waist and pulled him closer-

" _Ima_?" Ziva looked up, seeing the girls in the doorway. She gave them a soft smile, reaching out for them. Silently, they rushed to the bed; Shirah lifted Nahara onto the bed before she and Yoni climbed up after her. Once close enough, Ziva pulled the girls into their arms; Shirah snuggled into Tim's embrace, her small arms going around his neck.

"I am sorry, _Abba_." Tim held his oldest close, kissing her head. They settled down with the girls snuggled between them, but no one could sleep. After a moment, Yoni crawled off the bed, rushing into the living area before returning with _The Dovekeepers_. She held it out to her father, but Tim shook his head. Ziva, knowing what the little girl was trying to do accepted the book. She sat up against the headboard, pulling Nahara into her lap as Tim also sat up; Shirah curled into his side, and Yoni climbed into her father's lap, both girls snuggling against him as Ziva began to read.

" _'Ten men among them would be chosen. They would do the deed and dispatch with the rest of us. They would bear the burden as death-givers so that we did not have to carry the sin of harming ourselves, which was forbidden. When the time came they would slay each other, until only one was left. That man would hold the weight of all our sins, and would be commanded to enter through the three gates of Gehennom, the valley of hell, where he would suffer the torments of demons for all eternity.'_ " She glanced at her husband, at her oldest daughters- Shirah and Yoni nestled against their father's chest, enthralled in the story they had grown up hearing from the moment of their conception. Only Nahara seemed to lose interest, occasionally perking up at words she recognized.

" _'Why should we fear death when we do not fear sleep?' Eleazar cried out, in a frenzy, in such a pure rapture that none could look away.'_ " Ziva met Tim's gaze; he knew why she stopped, and she reached over, taking his hand and squeezing firmly. " _'I saw him as he was at the well, furious with all men's wrongdoings, assured he could set things right in the name of God. 'Death allows freedom to our souls. It takes true courage to find true freedom and be called to God's side.'_ "

Shirah looked up at her father, worry in her eyes, and Yoni snuggled closer, burying her face in her father's chest, the sound of his heart in her ear. When Shirah turned back to her mother, she found Ziva watching Tim with concerned dark eyes; the words from the novel falling from her lips like the saddest song, the meaning clear.

" _'We were born to die, as are all who are broguht into the world. This even the most fortunate among us must face.'_ " She stopped, leaning over and pressing a firm kiss to her husband's mouth, the next words from the novel for only him to hear. " _'Death walks beside us, not with us.'_ " She rested her forehead to his, stroking his cheek. "Not with us, my love."


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So there's a little between two years between each child- fifteen months between each conception. So Shirah is about six, Yoni about four and Nara about two or so. My math might be off, so bear with me. I can do complicated calculus and trig, but figuring out the ages of fictional little girls is a challenge for me. Go figure.

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Three Months Later_

He awoke to the ringing of an alarm, though in his exhausted state, he couldn't figure out what it was, where it was coming from, or why the hell it was ringing.

A soft snort reached his ears, and someone snuggled close; he sighed, glancing down to find his six-year-old curled into his side, her face buried in his chest, one small hand holding tight to a chunk of his shirt. He glanced at the other half of the bed- Ziva lay directly across from him, snoring loudly; Nara lay sprawled across her chest, ear pressed against her mother's heart, the two-year-old's face buried in the mane of dark hair that flowed over her mother's shoulders. His gaze moved to Yoni, and he chuckled dryly. The four-year-old little girl was in the middle of the bed, stretched out horizontally, her head on Ziva's shoulder, her small feet shoving into Shirah's back.

_The Dovekeepers_ lay open upside down on the bed between them, an island lost in the chaos of the storm.

If Tim had his phone on him, he'd have taken a picture to show them later.

The ringing returned, and he sighed, sitting up, being careful not to wake his four sleeping beauties. Carefully, he slipped out of the bed, going in search of the noise-

Come to find out, it wasn't ringing, but knocking.

It took him a moment, but finally he managed to answer the door; Tony stood on the other side. "... you... Tony?" He struggled to stifle the yawn, and the older man chuckled.

"Someone's tired, McSleepy." He replied, moving past and into the apartment; it was then that Tim saw the box of doughnuts and coffee holder. "I brought breakfast." He looked around, searching for- "Where's Momma Mossad and your three little ninja babies?"

"Shh." Tim held a finger to his lips as he accepted one of the cups Tony held out. He then took a seat at the table, glancing back towards the hallway. "Still sleeping." The two men sat in silence for several minutes, enjoying the warmth of the coffee, before Tim finally asked, "What... exactly are you doing here?"

"I need some advice." Tim raised an eyebrow. "About Senior." The eyebrow shot higher.

"And... you came to me... _because_?"

"Because you have- had- such a good relationship with the Ambassador." The other eyebrow rose to join the first. "Look, Tim, I just... I want to know if I should give Senior a second chance. I mean, our relationship hasn't been the best, and he's been more neglectful older brother than father, but..."

"He's still your dad."

Tony nodded. "Yeah. What do I do?"

Tim sighed, twisting the ring on his finger, thinking. A moment passed, before he leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "Look, Tones, I didn't always have the best relationship with my dad. When I was a teenager, we fought more than Sarah and I did. I left Israel at sixteen to go to MIT more to _spite_ my parents than actually get an education, and there was a period where I didn't talk to my dad at all. But he forgave me for it. He realized that I was a kid, and that I had never... really had a normal childhood, being his son, and he apologized for that."

"So... how does that..."

Tim thought a moment, before lifting the lid of the pastry box. He pulled out a _babka_ \- a twisted, yeast-risen pastry filled with chocolate and cinnamon and topped with streusel. Clearly, Tony had stopped at the Jewish bakery not far from the apartment on his way over; they were still warm and still smelled of the oven. A moment passed, as Tim twisted a small piece off and popped it in his mouth.

"Tony, do you love Senior?"

_"What the hell kind of question is that, McGee?"_

The younger agent held a finger to his lips. "Shh!"

"Your girls are-"

"Two, four and six, in that order, youngest to oldest. It's Saturday, and they still need their sleep, so keep your voice down."

"Fine." Tony took a sip of his coffee. "But what the hell kind of question is that, if I love my father? Of course I love my father."

"So would you be willing to forgive him his sins if you had no choice? If he passed away tomorrow without warning, would you be willing to forgive him?"

" _What the hell are you asking, McGee?_ "

"Hey! You wake my girls, you're gonna have to deal with Ziva, and I am _not_ going to be in the room when she wrings you dry. So keep your voice-"

"And who _exactly_ is Ziva going to be... wringing dry?" Both men turned to see the woman in question shuffle into the room, wearing nothing but a one of Tim's button downs open over a white tank and a pair of his plaid boxers. Her hair was a mess, and she was stiff from having slept with a two-year-old on her chest all night. She made her way to the table, picking up the remaining cup of coffee from the holder, and stealing a piece of Tim's pastry before getting a plate from the cabinet instead of a napkin.

"Tony." Tim replied as Ziva returned to the table, taking a seat beside her husband.

She quickly peeked beneath the lid of the pastry box, pulling out a _sufganiyah-_ a jelly-filled type of doughnut usually reserved for Hanukkah. She took a bite of the doughnut just as three pairs of little feet came bounding from the master bedroom. Tony looked up to see his partners' little girls come tumbling into the kitchen, still in their pajamas- Shirah in a pair of purple pajamas with snowflakes on the pants and a picture of Elsa and Anna from _Frozen_ on the front. Her hair- two long braids that Ziva usually did before the girl went to bed- was hanging down her back, strands coming out of the plaits, and she held tightly to Brogan. Nara had a pair of yellow-footie pajamas with little teddy bears on them, her dark curls sticking up every which way, and Yoni was in a blue nightgown, complete with ruffles, that she had picked out strictly for the color, her dark hair a tangled mass that would be hell to get out later.

"To-to!" The girls quickly rushed to Tony, who got up from his chair, kneeling down to accept all three girls into his arms. He pressed kisses to each dark head, telling them hello, before returning to his seat. Once seated, Yoni climbed onto Tony's lap, tilting her head back to look up at him. It was clear the little girl knew which member of the team would be on her side and get her whatever she asked for. It was also clear that only Tim and Ziva's daughters were allowed to call him 'To-to'; Palmer had learned that the hard way.

Shirah gasped, mouth dropping in surprise as she spotted the _babka_. Trying to be sneaky, she tiptoed towards her father, reaching around him to steal the pastry; Tim gently slapped her hand away. The girl pulled her hand back, hurt. " _Not_ yours, Shiraleh. You can have your own. This one's mine."

Tony chuckled, reaching over to lift the lid of the box. The six-year-old's eyes lit up in excitement. She looked to her parents; they rarely allowed sweets in the house-

Ziva nodded, licking the raspberry jelly off her own fingers. The girl grabbed a napkin and quickly picked the one she wanted. "What do you say to Uncle Tony, Shiraleh?" The girl stopped on her way to one of the chairs, turning back to him.

" _Toda_." She pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek, and he chuckled.

" _Prego_."

After Ziva had put Nara into her high chair, Tim turned back to Tony's question. His wife got up, grabbing napkins for everyone. Once she'd passed them out to the girls, however, she stopped, running a hand through her hair and rubbing her husband's back. "So... what was being discussed before the little _Miffletzets_ made their appearances." She winked at Tony when Shirah glared at her, a giggle causing her nose to wrinkle.


	70. Chapter 70

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_A Week Later_

She took a deep breath, waiting for him to pick up the call. It had been difficult, making this decision, but she'd done it- there was no going back, she had no reason to remain under their control anymore. She sighed, laying a hand against her abdomen-

If it hadn't been for that assignment, she never would have come to America, never would have found her husband again, never would have conceived her little girl. She never would have had any of those little girls that had grown and lived within her womb. So, in some strange way, she had the agency to thank.

A squeal caught her attention and she turned, hearing childish giggles reach her ears, followed by the pounding of small feet on the hardwood. Bigger footsteps followed, and soon, Nara climbed into her mother's lap, her hair dripping wet and her her body as slick as the day she'd entered the world. "What is going- what are you looking-?" The toddler rose onto her knees on her mother's lap, looking over Ziva's shoulder towards the entrance to the study- it was at that moment, her father chose to answer.

"Ah, Zivaleh, what-" Eli stopped, unsure of how to respond at the sight before him. "Um... should we talk later, Ziva-"

"No, _Abba_ , I-" She glanced at her little girl and then her father, before gently nudging the toddler. "Naraleh, it is not polite to," She whispered softly to her daughter, and the little girl turned, squealing at the sight of Eli on the camera.

" _Saba_!" The child leaned towards the camera, and Eli chuckled, as Tim's voice reached his ears and then his son-in-law appeared.

"Nara, you _have_ to take your bath-" The child turned back to her father, who stood holding a towel and was struggling to bathe a toddler.

_"No!"_ The little girl crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at her father. Tim sighed, going to his wife.

"I'm sorry, baby. I swear, at one point, I had the _osah tzarut_ under control at one point." He reached for Nara, who kicked out at her father in defiance.

" _Hey!_ Nahara Riva, you do not do that!" The toddler looked up at her mother, suddenly ashamed. "Not to _Abba_ or anyone else, are we clear?" The girl nodded.

" _Slicha._ " Tim chuckled softly.

"That's okay. For now." Tim reached out to pick the girl up, but she pulled away, curling into Ziva's chest.

_"No!"_ Tim rolled his eyes, turning to Eli.

" _Slicha, Abba_. We didn't mean to interrupt. Well, _I_ didn't mean to interrupt."

The older man chuckled; his son-in-law clearly appeared to be engaged in a losing battle with his youngest- and the baby of the family was winning. He remembered such battles- neither Ziva nor Tali liked taking baths, and he and Rivka often found themselves chasing toddlers through the apartment, much as Tim was doing. It had taken them three years to learn that there was a way to get the girls to cooperate. "Timothy."

His son-in-law looked up. "What is it, _Abba_?"

Eli glanced at Ziva, seeing her blush when she realized what he was going to suggest. "Have Yoni and Shirah take the bath with her." The other man furrowed a brow, confused as to where he was going with this. Ziva covered her face with her hands, shaking her head.

"Um-"

"Trust me, Timothy, it will work. Ask Zivaleh if you do not believe me." Tim glanced at his wife, and Ziva ducked her head, muttering something about Tali refusing to take baths as a toddler and Ziva helping out. "Trust me, Timothy, from one father to another." His son-in-law nodded, glancing at the little girl; the child was preoccupied with her mother's necklace, and Tim took the opportunity to scoop her up. Nara let out a squeal, kicking out in attempt to break free, but Tim wrapped the blanket around her, whispering something to the child. The girl nodded and seemed to relax.

"I'll be in the bathroom- getting this little one to cooperate- if you need me." He kissed Ziva quickly, chastely, before Nara leaned down, doing the same to her mother before blowing kisses to Eli, who blew them right back. Once they were gone, Ziva turned back to her father, resting her head on her arm.

"Sorry about that, _Abba_." Eli waved it away as his daughter tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No apology needed, Zivaleh. Children make life chaotic, but it is a _good_ kind of chaos. The type everyone needs at some point in their life." She blushed, licking her lips nervously, the taste of Tim's kiss filling her mouth and making her heart skip a beat. She folded her arms on the desk, taking a deep breath.

" _Abba_ , I... I have something I want to tell you."

Concern filled Eli's features, and he leaned towards the camera. "Are you all right?You are not sick-"

"No, I... I am fine, I just..." She reached up, scratching nervously at her neck. This was going to be harder than she thought. Everything she'd been prepared to say had suddenly flown out of her head once she actually had to _say_ it. How did she even start this conversation? _Sorry Abba, it has been fun, but I want to start working for someone else now?_

"Ziva, you are worrying me." He watched his daughter glance down at her hands; she began to play with her ring, long dark curls falling down to curtain her features. Suddenly, she was no longer a grown woman, but a little girl, that rambunctious teenager, asking if she could go get ice cream with Tim, or informing them that Tim had invited her to go to the movies and she wanted to go. She took a deep breath, lifting her head and meeting her father's gaze.

"I want to... I want to resign from Mossad, Papa. I want to become an NCIS agent."


	71. Chapter 71

_Washington, D.C.,_

_Georgetown,_

_Two Months Later_

"I'm so proud of you, baby."

They met in a firm kiss, one that was occasionally broken by a chaste peck or gentle tug on the lower lip. She slid her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

"You _always_ tell me that."

"It's true. I'm very, very proud of you, Ms. American Citizenship. Because you do amazing, beautiful things." She giggled, as he caught her chin in his hand, tugging her back to him.

"Like have your babies."

He 'hmmed' into the kiss, pulling her closer, his free arm slipping around her waist and tugging her just slightly off her feet. The white skirt and matching jacket were beautiful on her, fresh and new- symbolizing a clean break from Mossad, and a new beginning at NCIS. One of the white heels she wore slipped off her foot, not that she noticed. He tangled his other hand in her hair, deepening the kiss.

"And confuse Tony with a simple slip of the tongue."

She giggled, knowing it was true. It was funny, watching how flustered the Italian got when she mixed up her idioms or struggled to pronounce words. Nowadays, though, she did it mainly to watch him squirm.

She stepped back, stumbling when she realized that she'd lost a shoe; they slammed into the wall- he managed to catch himself before he crushed her, their mouths never breaking apart. The girls were with Tony, Abby and Sarah, who took them out for ice cream after the ceremony; their parents had claimed tiredness, and, promising to be up after a nap when the ice cream was done, headed home. Although they were going to do anything but nap.

In fact, they hadn't even made it to the bedroom; they hadn't left the living room, or the front door. Once it closed behind them, Tim pushed her against it, his mouth catching hers as his hands caught hers, holding them over her head. Flashes of their reunion seven years earlier had danced through her mind. They'd made love in the car yesterday, had played before and after the ceremony, and chased each other up the four flights of stairs towards their apartment, squealing and laughing the entire time. When Tim had finally caught up to her, they'd slammed into the front door, hitting hard enough it caused their neighbors two doors down to poke their heads out and glare at them. They'd just turned to the older couple and grinned impishly before Tim managed to unlock the door, pushing it open. Ziva had grabbed the front of his suit and tugged him inside, slamming the door behind them to the surprised looks two doors down.

He slid a hand down her side, working on the buttons of her jacket and pushing it off her shoulders, revealing the white blouse beneath. "White is far too virginal on you, baby. You are _anything_ but a virgin." She grinned, pulling him closer.

"You would know, Timothy. You ruined me after all."

Their mouths brushed together in the lightest of kisses. "You asked me to ruin you. I was only following orders."

A smirk tugged at her features. "Like a good husband _should_."

He scooped her up, white blouse, skirt, missing shoe and all, their mouths meeting in another deep kiss as they finally made it back to the bedroom, kicking the door closed. Once on the bed, their clothing began to fall, hands finding purchase in soft curve and hard plane, mouths tasting and teasing and rediscovering every nook and cranny of each other, legs tangling and hugging, feet brushing against sensitive areas of both bodies, eyes closing and allowing all other senses to take control.

Left in only her underwear, Ziva watched her husband with fire in her eyes; the burning desire to take every part of his soul and stitch the two halves together. And like the fire in her eyes, she saw the water within his- the deadly force that could destroy without a word, without a sound; that could sweep an innocent out to sea if so desired.

_My Ziva, so full of fire._

Eli was right. The substance burned within her very soul- and when it mixed with Tim's- the thing he had no problem being around with solid ground beneath his feet, but feared when on open water- instead of canceling each other out, the two combined to create amazing things-

Shirah, Yonah and Nahara, to name a few.

And that fact that their girls- at such tender ages as six, four and two- possessed so much of their parents' personalities... neither could help wondering if perhaps something had gone wrong at their conception, to give them three girls with such varying temperaments. Shirah was like her mother, in so many ways- burning hot and passionate over the littlest things, while Yonah was as relaxed and calm as her father was. Their two oldest truly were fire and water- wild and rampant, easy-going and cool- always getting into trouble and butting heads, no matter how close they were in either age or sisterly relationship. They were every bit Ziva and Tali, to the T.

And then there was Nahara.

Tim and Ziva's last baby got the short end of the personality straws- possessing both fire and water, hot and cold. While her sisters had balance, Nahara had none- not that either Tim or Ziva could see. The baby was constantly getting into trouble and then at the same time accepting responsibility for what she'd done- even for things she hadn't done. Or as Eli said, Nahara's element was air- needed by Shirah's fire to continue burning, and equally needed by Yonah's water to keep her on track. That the toddler couldn't seem to find that balance that kept her from going to far to either side-

Well, they'd have to work on that.

An hour later, as they lay together in each others' arms, Ziva grabbed _The Dovekeepers_ , but didn't open it. She lay beside him, tracing patterns on his chest, the book lying between them, forgotten. " _'Love made you give yourself away, it bound you to this world, and to another's fate.'_ " She trailed her fingers over his face, meeting his gaze. She knew the book by heart, they both did. " _'We were together as we had been even when we were apart, for we were one person, wed by more than our desire.'_ "

Her gaze flicked to the rings they wore- the rings they'd used in play, taken from their parents' jewelry chests. Matching rings, for a simple children's game, that had turned out to be so much more. A game that, for them, was survival in a desert that could take life as easily as it could give, depending on which side of the bank you lived on. She studied his face, smiling softly. " _'His spirit entwined with mine as he entered me and took me to be his... I loved him even now-'_ " Their mouths met in a deep, searching kiss, hands roaming and touching and finding what they had desired all along.

When they broke apart, they lay together; Ziva tucked against his side, head on his shoulder, fingers tracing over his skin. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, despite the fact that they could get no closer than they were. She glanced up at him through her lashes, even as the front door opened and the girls rushed into the house, announcing they were home and on a definite sugar high.

Their mouths met in one last kiss, as small feet rushed down the hall towards the master. Their gazes locked, and she brushed her thumb over the apple of his cheek, the last words from the fourth part of the book falling from her lips as the door opened and the girls rushed towards the bed, squealing in delight about their day. The girls clambered onto the bed as Ziva leaned close, her lips brushing his ear,

" _'We were born to live.'_ "


End file.
